What Happened to Scarlett
by rjr60
Summary: Ten years ago, Rhett sent Scarlett divorce papers. To his surprise, she signed them immediately, and promptly took her children and disappeared from his life. Ten years later, a chance meeting with Wade gives him the opportunity to discover: What Happened to Scarlett?
1. Chapter 1

The young man striding confidently down the street ahead looked vaguely familiar. Rhett looked sharply at him, trying to remember where he knew him from. He looked almost like... but no, it couldn't be. Wade Hamilton hadn't been seen around here for years; when Scarlett had gone away after their divorce, she had taken her children with her, and no one knew where they had gone. Perhaps it was a relative of Wade's'? The resemblance was very striking.

Rhett walked faster, crossing a busy street to get a closer look. The young man turned unexpectedly, and caught Rhett looking at him. At first, a frown crossed his face; then, just as Rhett was about to make an apologetic motion and turn away, the other man smiled. "Captain Butler!" he called, looking pleased.

It _was_ Wade. Feeling oddly as though he were dreaming, Rhett moved forward and grasped the hand the younger man held out to him.

"Wade?" he asked, surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. "It - uh – it's been years! How have you been?"

"I'm well, Captain Butler," Wade told him. "I've been at university in England, but I've come back to attend VMI for my last year. It's been a life-long ambition of mine; my father would have wanted it, I think."

Rhett remembered vaguely that Charlie Hamilton had come from a long line of military officers. Having his son attend his alma mater was the kind of thing that would have mattered to him. "Yes, I suppose," he said, clapping the other man's shoulder. "Do you have time for a drink? I'd like to hear what you've been doing with yourself." _And where your mother has been all these years,_ he thought bitterly.

Wade pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. Then he looked at Rhett apologetically. "Actually, Captain Butler, I have a dinner engagement in a few minutes. I have to leave town town tomorrow, so tonight will be my last chance to meet my friends. However, we could have breakfast in the morning, if you like. Before I catch the train back to Atlanta."

"That would be fine," Rhett said. They made arrangements to meet in the dining room of the hotel Wade was staying at – a nice, upper class hotel, although not the recently built luxury hotel that Rhett preferred.

The next morning, Rhett sipped a cup of coffee and waited with what patience he could muster for his ex-wife's son to join him. He had been early; unable to sleep for thinking that today was the day he would finally discover what had happened to Scarlett.

She had surprised him, six months after Miss Melly died, by signing the divorce papers he had sent her. He had expected to have to go back to Atlanta and use a combination of bribery and coercion to persuade her, and his first settlement offer was deliberately low, leaving him room to negotiate. But the papers came back within a week, all properly signed and notarized, with a note containing only two words. "Be happy," she had written; for the first time since he had known her, an action Scarlett took had stunned him beyond belief.

So, of course, he had _not_ believed. He had assumed that she had a trick up her sleeve, some sly plan to get him back. After all, she told him that she loved him, and Scarlett was never a woman to give up what she loved. He half-expected that one day he would look up and there she would be, disturbing his peace in Charleston just as she had disturbed his peace everywhere else he had gone in the fifteen years since he had first met her.

But she did not come.

Nor were there any letters or emissaries on her behalf. She made no effort to contact him at all. Several business matters that might have provided an excuse for a meeting were handled efficiently, by their lawyers, without one.

A year after the divorce, he had allowed his mother to persuade him that he should search for a new wife, a proper, submissive wife who would love him the way Scarlett never had. That would bring her, he was fiercely certain; when rumors reached Atlanta that he was searching for a new wife, Scarlett's competitive instincts would rise to the fore, bringing her here to fight for him. He felt confidently sure of it, so sure that he pictured how he would turn her away, scorning her as she had once scorned him.

But she did not come.

Six months after he had begun his 'search' for a wife, he began to feel the stirrings of real alarm. The behavior he was seeing was so unlike the Scarlett he had known for so long. He could think of nothing except dire illness or catastrophe that could keep Scarlett away from what she had decided she wanted, and the last time he had spoken to her, she had wanted him. The fact that she made no effort to see him or communicate with him in all this time had gone beyond surprising, and would have worried him if he cared at all for her anymore.

Of course, he did not care. It was only his dutiful concern for Ella and Wade that made him go to Atlanta, determined to find out what had caused Scarlett's strange silence. The fact that the concern was a little belated never occurred to him, even though it was almost two years to the day after Melly's death that he tired of waiting, and caught a train to Atlanta to find out what happened to Scarlett. From the station, he walked to the house on Peachtree Street, certain that within moments, his questions would be answered.

But she was not there.

Oh, the house was lived in. Relatives of the governor had bought the place, lock, stock and barrel, eighteen months ago, but they had never met Scarlett, and had no idea where she was. Likewise, Uncle Henry Hamilton had no idea where she could be found. He held authority to deal with any business emergencies, he told Rhett, gruffly; anything else, he sent to a postal address in Richmond, and waited for Scarlett's replies. Not that there was much other business. Scarlett had sold the store to Hugh Elsing, for a ridiculously low price, not even a week after Henry had sent the signed divorce papers back to Rhett, so there were only a few investments, and a pension for Aunt Pitty.

Back at his hotel, Rhett paced for a while, trying to think of where Scarlett might have gone. When the idea finally hit, it was so obvious that he wondered if he perhaps suffered from premature dementia for not thinking of it before. Tara! Of course, Scarlett would go to Tara. She had always loved the place excessively; even in the early days of their marriage, she had spent far more time than he liked at what he called 'that white elephant in Clayton County.' Rhett caught the afternoon train south, sure that this time, he had tracked down his quarry.

But she was not there.

Suellen told him, with what appeared as genuine surprise, that Scarlett had never come here again after Melly died. She had arranged for a trust with a certain amount of money in it to be available to meet her share of the operating expenses of Tara, with instructions to apply to Uncle Henry if more was needed. Not only had she not come here, but she apparently took no further interest in managing Tara; all Will's decisions in the last two years had been approved without comment or question.

"And that," Suellen had said, wiping her hands on her apron as she spoke to Rhett at the kitchen door, "is most unlike Scarlett."

Rhett had to agree. He returned to Atlanta, and pursued an ever-fainter trail. He went to Richmond, where Henry Hamilton said that he sent her mail, only to discover that Scarlett used a mailing service to retrieve her correspondence and send it on to an address that Rhett discovered belonged to an attorney in Boston. He, quite properly, refused to pass on any information about Scarlett's whereabouts without her permission. Perhaps feeling sorry for Rhett, who by this time was visibly upset, he offered to pass on a letter to Scarlett, if Rhett cared to write one.

Rhett did.

Of all the things he had done in his life, he came to regret that letter the most. In it, he used anger to disguise his hurt dismay at the idea that Scarlett intended to cut him out of her life completely. He told her that even he had not expected her to be so low, so contemptible, as to take her children away from the people and places they loved and raise them among strangers. He had accused her of running out on her responsibilities, to Tara and in Atlanta, and he had ended by telling her that while he would be pleased never to hear from her again, he would like to correspond with the children.

A few weeks later, he received a completely proper, exquisitely polite letter from Scarlet, telling him that, given his hostility towards her, she thought it best that he have no contact with the children. She would not, she informed him, trouble him further.

And she had not.

That letter had come nine years ago, and he never saw or heard anything from Scarlett again. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth, and Rhett had been dismayed to discover that with her went most of his life's joy. She had been his lodestar, and without her, he seemed unable to find purpose, or balance.

So now he sat here, at this breakfast table, waiting to find out what had happened to Scarlett.

**So, what do you think? Is it worth continuing? I have another chapter I just have to upload and edit; review if you'd like to see it. Or if you wouldn't... I'm a big girl, I can take criticism! But review!**


	2. Chapter 2

When Wade arrived, it amused Rhett to see that the young man showed signs of having had a late night. His eyes were a bit red, and though he accepted a cup of coffee with alacrity, he made no effort to order any breakfast. With a hint of gentle malice, Rhett inquired if he would care to join him in a meal.

"Nothing for me, no," Wade quickly waved the waiter away. "Just coffee, lots of it, hot and black."

"A late night?" Rhett asked.

"Um – yes." He looked at Rhett and smiled. "We met some girls, you see."

"Ah, say no more. There are always girls at your age."

"And for some people, for many years after," Wade said, pointedly. Rhett froze.

"I beg your pardon?" he said icily.

Wade shrugged unapologetically. "Everyone knew you were half-owner of the most infamous whorehouse in Atlanta, and that you spent most of your evenings there," he said, calmly sipping his coffee. "Even I knew it, and I was only ten. Had my mother been the merest idiot, who didn't see it for herself, one of the jealous biddies of Atlanta's Old Guard would have been certain to tell her anyway, and my mother is no one's fool." Wade met Rhett's most quelling glance with calm indifference. "It was one of the main reasons why I decided against it, when mother asked if I wanted to keep in touch with you. She didn't intend to, and Ella was too young to be given the choice, but I could have, had I chosen."

"What were your other reasons?" Rhett asked, side-stepping any discussion of his sex life. It was just inappropriate to talk about such things with a mere boy, even if Wade did meet his eyes with a calm confidence that belied his years. Besides, he didn't want to argue with his erstwhile stepson about what was none of his business.

"My mother had gotten a letter from you the day before," Wade said. "When she came down to breakfast the next morning, I could see that she had been crying. Not a lot; by then she had mostly put you and your marriage behind her. But a little. And I thought that if I tried to stay in touch, it would mean more letters, and more tears. So I declined." He studied his hands for a moment, then looked up at Rhett. "I am very fond of my mother, Captain Butler."

Rhett nodded. "That's only right," he said quietly. "But you're a man now, not a child; you should be able to see that there are two sides to every story."

"I can accept that," Wade said. He flashed Rhett a rueful smile. "I know that my mother can be difficult to live with. She's wilful and stubborn and hot-tempered. But you have to accept that she _is_ my mother. I'll be as fair to you as I can, but if it comes to a conflict between your best interests and hers, I'll always come out on her side."

"I have no quarrel with that," Rhett assured him.

"I don't have to catch the train until noon, so I have time to talk, if you'd like," Wade said. "I didn't realize until I spoke to Aunt Suellen last week that mama had cut herself off almost completely from everyone she knew before. I suppose she thought it best; the scandal of the divorce would never have gone away. I don't think mama minded for herself so much, but for me, and even more for Ella, because, well -" he shrugged. "If we had stayed in Atlanta, it would certainly have blighted her marriage prospects."

"And is Ella married?" Rhett asked.

Wade looked at him in faint surprise. "I forgot you didn't know. She isn't married yet, but that's why I'm going to Atlanta. Ella is getting married in three days." He hesitated. "Would you like to come with me? I'm sure Ella would love to see you again. She always adored you."

Rhett smiled wryly, but did not deny it. The plain-but-sweet-natured oldest daughter of Scarlett's _had_ adored him, and he felt a rare twinge of shame when he recalled his complete lack of interest in her in the months after Bonnie's death. For the very first time, it occurred to him that he had not done well by Scarlett's children, even aside from having made their mother very unhappy.

"Where is the wedding?" he asked, mildly interested.

"Why, at Tara. Ella has very fond memories of the place, and she is closer to Aunt Suellen than any of the rest of us." Only a faint grimace as he said her name let Rhett know that Wade did not share his sibling's affection for their Aunt. Remembering the lines of discontent that were already deeply carved into Suellen's face the last time he saw her, Rhett could not blame him.

"Thank you for the invitation," he said gravely. "I believe I would like to join you. If you're certain that your Aunt won't mind?"

Rhett had no doubt that Suellen would bitterly resent his presence; only the fact that Wade and Ella wanted him there would save him from being ignominiously asked to leave.

"Oh, no," Wade assured him, with a perfectly straight face. "I'm certain she'll be delighted!" Only the humor dancing in Wade's brown eyes made Rhett certain that the younger man knew better.

To save himself from erupting in laughter, Rhett rose quickly to his feet, and if he did not have the cat-like agility of his youth, he was at least able to leave his chair without holding on to something to aid him.

"If I'm going to Atlanta for a few days, I need to make arrangements," he said, bowing slightly. "I don't live in Savannah; I was only here on business, which I'll need to postpone. What time does the train to Atlanta leave?"

"At twelve-fifteen, Wade answered promptly. "I made sure I didn't have to catch the early morning train, as I expected that the evening would be rather – uh – convivial." He laughed, and Rhett realized that the boy had grown into a rather likeable young man, just the type whose company Rhett would have enjoyed, when he, too, was young.

"I'm sure you did," he replied, with a smile. "All right, I'll make my excuses and pack, then meet you there at noon!" The two men parted company, and as he left the restaurant, Rhett was aware that for the first time in years, there was a lilt in his steps and a smile on his face. Finally, he was going to find out what happened to Scarlett!

When he arrived in the crowded, noisy train station, Rhett looked around, realizing with a feeling of pride, that only a few signs remained of the devastation that had been so complete a decade ago. The war brutalized Georgia – like all of the south – but she was recovering more quickly than anyone could have expected. Now that reconstruction was over, the cities were flourishing; a few years of good weather for the crops would be a big help for the rural areas, but Rhett wasn't in charge of the rain.

"Captain Butler!" Wade's voice came from directly beside him. Startled, Rhett glared a little at the younger man. Not too many years ago, anyone trying to sneak up on him like that would have been disappointed, but time had dulled his senses. What made it worse was that he could see no sign that Wade had done it on purpose in the boy's smiling face.

"Are you ready? The train leaves in just a few minutes."

"Yes, I just need to get my luggage on board," Rhett said. He would have gestured to one of the many porters, but Wade hefted the heavy case without so much as a grimace at the weight. "I would have thought you an advocate of travelling lightly, Captain Butler," was his only comment.

"There was a time when I did, and I could probably still manage with no more than a small carpetbag if I had to, but not if, in a very few days, I'll be expected to appear elegantly attired at Ella's wedding. I – uh – wouldn't want to embarrass her, but formal wear takes up a lot more space than a change of shirts and my toiletries."

Wade smiled at him reassuringly as the two entered an empty compartment. "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about embarrassing Ella. On the surface, she's like a twittery bird, but Ella is fiercely loyal to the people she loves. Anyone who insults you will have her to deal with, and they'll wind up feeling as if they've been pecked to death by a small bird!"

"I remember how she always defended Bonnie when Mammy would try to punish her... it was usually deserved, too. Bonnie was a bit spoiled!"

"A bit? She was a little hellion," Wade said, laughing as he stowed the suitcase in the overhead rack. "I remember when she - " he stopped abruptly, staring at his former stepfather in dismay. "Do you _mind_ talking about her, sir?" he asked gently. "I don't have to, if you don't wish it. It's just that mother and I often do, and Ella as well. It makes her seem... closer."

"No, in fact, that's one of the things that I've missed. I haven't had anyone to talk to about that part of my past."

Wade's smile brightened. "Well, then. I remember when Bonnie persuaded me and Ella to help her filch fresh peach tarts from the kitchen. There was going to be a party, and the house was full of the smell of baking. Bonnie insisted that no one would notice if we just took one apiece, so we snuck - "

The two men sat in the train compartment and exchanged stories about Bonnie for almost the entire trip. It soothed Rhett, in a hurt place he didn't even realize he was still carrying, to hear stories about his beloved daughter, and understand at last that she wasn't really gone. Not as long as she was still remembered by the people who had loved her.

He couldn't help but think, as he listened to Wade, how ironic it was that Scarlett had known this first.

**I had intended to make this a little longer, but this just seemed like such a natural stopping point.**

**Apologies for the error about Wade's education, and thanks to the reviewer who pointed out that his father actually went to Harvard. Maybe I could have Wade do post-grad work there? Hmm...**

**Also, I haven't forgotten about Ashley, or Scarlett's promise to Melly. We'll get to him!**

**And in the next chapter, Scarlett herself! I promise!**

**Please review, if only to point out my mistakes. As long as we're civil, I enjoy hearing it.**


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter Three**

The station in Atlanta was even busier than the one in Savannah. Stepping down from the train, Rhett looked around, feeling oddly as if he were in a dream. So many things were completely familiar, but before his mind could relax and enjoy the familiarity, his eyes would spot something new. It was as if all the things he once knew in Atlanta were jumbled together with a great many new things, and it gave him a sense of unreality.

"I didn't know they had streetcars out this far," he said. Wade nodded.

"Oh, they have streetcars going all different direction now," he answered. "I'm told, though I haven't seen it for myself, that they are building a line that will run within a block of our old house on Peachtree. I haven't been back, myself."

"No?" Rhett considered the matter. "No. I suppose not. It – it wasn't a very happy place, was it?"

Wade smiled at him. "Part of the time it was," he said. "And I don't suppose there's a house in town that's more than a few years old that hasn't seen its share of troubles. We'll be staying at the Kimball House Hotel; mother reserved the entire top floor for the wedding guests. We can take the streetcar down Wall Street to Pryor."

"Did they finally get that monstrosity completed?" Rhett asked, referring to the hotel. "They said it was complete back in '71, but they were whole floors that had nothing but two-by-fours to mark the rooms."

The two men paid their fares and sat on one of the benches that lined the sides of the car. Since it was August and the weather was fair, the sides were open to the air.

"And you'd have done better if you were in charge, hmm?" Wade teased him.

Rhett rolled his eyes. "You know I would. Anyone with a lick of sense could have done better... but so many of the men involved in that building either had no sense, or were taking so many bribes, they didn't care if it was ever finished." He glanced away from Wade for just a minute, a tell that would have cost him dearly in a poker game. "I suppose that means she is doing well."

"Financially, you mean? I can't give you any details, of course, but it would be safe to say that mother is... quite comfortably well-off." There was an oddly gentle note to Wade's voice, and Rhett suddenly realized that he hadn't fooled Wade in the least. Forcing himself not to ask about Scarlett had only emphasized how important she still was to him; if he truly had not cared, he would have asked about her casually, as he would ask about any other acquaintance.

"Is she here, in Atlanta, I mean?" Rhett asked. Now that he had spoken of her, his eagerness to hear about her could not be contained.

"No. She's at Tara, with Aunt Suellen."

"Probably wishing she was here, then, if I know anything about those two. They fight like two cats in a burlap bag when they're together," Rhett said.

"I don't know. Even if she and Auntie are fighting, I think mother wanted to spend some time at Tara. She has deep roots here, you know."

"Odd that she stayed gone for so long then," Rhett said, following Wade as the younger man left the trolley. The ride had only taken few minutes, and the trolley had left them at the corner of Pryor and Wall Street, almost outside the door of the hotel.

"No, I don't think so," Wade replied. "You see, Tara was too close to you."

* * *

Checking into the plush hotel was easy; as Wade had said, Scarlett had reserved the entire fifth floor for her guests. As they entered the elevator, the attendant pulled the gate over the opening to the small cage. "What floor?" he asked, teeth gleaming in his dark face as he smiled at his patrons.

"Fifth," Wade answered, briefly but politely. The two men were silent as they rode upward, the only sound the loud hum of the motor that lifted the elevator up. When they emerged, Wade tipped the attendant – handsomely, if the fervor of the "Thank ya, suh," he received was anything to go by – and the two men walked down the thickly carpeted hallway.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Rhett stopped, griping Wade's arm with a rough hand. "Does – does she really hate me that much?" he asked in a low tone. "So much that she went far away and stayed away from everything she loved for years, just to avoid me?"

"Oh, come now, Captain Butler, you know my mother better than that! If she had hated you, she'd have stood her ground, spit in your face, and dared you to do anything about it."

Thinking about it forced Rhett to nod his agreement. Scarlett had never been one to back down from a confrontation.

Chuckling, Wade turned to the door, fitting the brass key into the lock of his room. "We'll stay here in Atlanta tonight; I'm supposed to meet Ella for dinner. I would invite you, but it's a formal event between her fiance's family and ours, and I'm the lucky one who gets to represent our family." Wade's droll expression left no doubt of his feelings about being the sacrificial lamb in this instance.

"But tomorrow, we'll go to Tara?" Rhett asked.

"Tomorrow morning, bright and early. I need to check the train schedule; then I'll send a message to let you know the time."

Wade disappeared into his room and Rhett continued down the hall to his own quarters, heavily embossed brass key in hand.

Rhett ate a meal alone in his room, his mind on many matters other than the food in front of him. Once he had finished his meal, he stood at the window staring blindly out into the dusty afternoon on Decatur street.

He had not been to Atlanta for many years, and he was startled to discover how much it had changed. Intellectually, he knew that the city had more than tripled in population since he lived here, but he was unprepared for the effect that seeing the change would have on him. Nothing, it seemed, was left of the life he had once led here, nothing but the house on Peachtree street and... his head came up as a thought came to him.

He did have one place to go while he was here, and he was glad of the opportunity to go alone. Grabbing his hat, he hurriedly left the luxurious hotel room.

The cemetery was quiet. The wind soughed through the branches of the trees, willows and dogwoods and live oaks creating a charming mosaic of sunlight and shadow. As far as he could tell, Rhett was the only living person here to see it.

He trod the well-worn paths surely, knowing precisely where his Bonnie lay. How could he forget, with everything about this place etched into his mind by horror? The loss of Bonnie had torn his soul asunder, a melodramatic phrase he had not understood until those dark days. He used to feel only a sort of contemptuous pity for people who had spoken in such a way, until he lost the foundation of his life when his beautiful, high-spirited daughter had fallen to her death. After that, nothing had mattered, not even Scarlett.

The very depth of that feeling is what prevented him from visiting her resting place for all these years. He had paid for care of the grave, and for the regular delivery of flowers, but that was merely money, and easy enough to come by. To actually come to the cemetery and be forced to accept the evidence of her death was beyond him, and always had been.

Until today.

When he thought of coming here today, it seemed so right, so natural. Perhaps because of his conversation with Wade on the train, he was finally ready to let go of his beloved. Finding her plot – only a few dozen feet from where Melly lay – Rhett knelt clumsily beside the gravestone.

"Bonnie," he murmured. "I'm here at last, Baby. After all these years. I bet you'd given up hope, hadn't you? Just figured I wasn't coming. The thing is, Bonnie, that I needed some time... lots of time, I guess." He let out a deep, shuddering sigh. "I've missed you, Precious. It's only recently that I've come to realize how I've allowed missing you to warp my whole life. I'm not going to do that any more, Bonnie. From now on, I'm going to live my life, what's left of it. I'll always love you, and I'll often think of you, but this – this is goodbye."

Bowing his head, Rhett gave a deep but fervent wish that Bonnie would find the best of whatever afterlife there may be. She deserved it.

After a few moments, he rose to his feet and walked away without a backward glance. There was a spring to his step and a lighter feeling in his heart; he felt purified, somehow, as if he had completed a religious ritual of some importance.

**Wait just a minute before you get out the noose. I do remember that I promised Scarlett in the next chapter. But this was already a full chapter, and we hadn't even got on the train to Tara yet! Plus, this is such a natural place for a chapter break. I didn't see anything that should be cut out, so what to do?**

**Well, I compromised. You won't get Scarlett till the next chapter, but they will both be posted at the same time. Another chapter should be up even as you are reading this, and if it's not, it should be a really short delay- like, minutes, 'cause that other chapter is already written. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, even those who pointed out errors. Please let me know if you like this one!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter Five**

**T**he train pulled away from the station, noisily belching clouds of foul-smelling smoke. Rhett sat beside Wade, who once again looked as though he had been up late the night before, leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as if the sunlight hurt them. Obviously, he had no wish to talk, but Rhett was in no mood to indulge him.

"Another rough night?" he asked, more to begin the conversation than because he was really interested. "What are Ella's fiance's people like?"

After a moment, Wade lifted his head and smiled wearily. "They are English," he said calmly. " I like Justin – the fiance' – well enough, I suppose, but he has a family."

"Perhaps he thinks the same thing about Ella?" Rhett mocked gently. For a moment, Wade scowled, but then a reluctant smile touched his lips.

"Touche'," he said. "I suppose they might. The problem is, they are minor English aristocracy – Justin's uncle is a Viscount – and they are absolutely determined to believe that Americans are barbarians. All of us, including Ella. As I said, Justin is not like that, but there are twenty members of his family, plus servants, who _are_. And dealing with them is driving me slowly insane. I will never be so glad to see a couple leave on their wedding trip as I will be to see the back of those two."

"Will his family leave immediately?" Rhett asked.

"No. I'm supposed to take them on a little tour of the south, let them look around so they'll have even more horror stories to tell their relatives and friends back home."

"So how is the wedding going bring you any relief, if you'll still be stuck with them for another week?"

Wade smiled. "Once Ella marries him, I don't have to be polite anymore," he said. "I can, for instance, tell lecherous cousin Rodney to keep his randy hands to himself, next time he molests an unwilling girl – and believe me, they're all unwilling when it comes to him. Man looks like a walrus."

"He might take that badly," Rhett warned.

"I'm counting on it," Wade replied with an impish smile.

Rhett laughed, and the two sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"So," Rhett said, after that brief pause. "Does your mother know we are coming?"

Wade grinned, teasingly. "Well, she knows I'm coming," he said.

Rhett rolled his eyes. "So you haven't mentioned me?"

"No. it's easier to apologize afterward than ask permission ahead of time. Not that I think Mama will be upset with me; it's Aunt Suellen I have to worry about. If I had cabled them ahead, that would just give her more time to complain about me to mother, which is the last thing anyone needs – Aunt Suellen with more time to complain."

Rhett hesitated. "Your Aunt hasn't had an easy life-" he said, feeling oddly diffident.

"And my mother has? Look, I know Mama stole Aunt Sue's beau – Ella's father. I also know that Aunt Sue married another man, has six children, and a comfortable life,a good part of it provided by my mother, while my mother has buried three husbands and was divorced by a fourth, has lost two babies, one before it was even born, and has spent a good deal of her adult life in exile from the place she loves best. So Aunt Suellen just needs to calm down and realize that it's not a competition to see who has the most beaus anymore."

At any other time, Rhett might have sympathised with Wade's stridently uttered words. Now, however, he stared at the younger man in shock.

"Three?" he asked.

"What?" Wade looked momentarily confused.

"You said she buried _three_ husbands?"

"Oh." Wade looked a little sheepish. "Yes, I suppose I did. I didn't really intend to divulge anything about her private life; I thought it was her place to tell you what she wanted to know, but... yes. Mother remarried, and was widowed again two years ago."

Rhett started to ask a question, and Wade shook his head, raising a hand. "No," he said. "I won't tell you anything more; you'll just have to wait and ask mother."

Rhett sighed, recognizing the adamant gleam in Wade's eyes. Good lord, the boy had grown up to be more like his mother than anyone could have expected. He used to be timid and shy, and gave every evidence of being weak-willed, as well. Now he was a man, strong and sure of himself, and Rhett would have been proud to call him son... except it was too late for that.

"All right," he agreed. "Let's talk about what you've been doing, then."

They spoke of Wade's attendence at Cambridge, where he had studied military history "- and I promise, Uncle Rhett, they take a very different view of our civil war than anyone here does, regarding it as a minor squabble between tribes of barbarians... much as we might think of two bands of Apaches fighting each other out in Arizona. And you don't even want to hear what they say about the American Revolution. I suppose it proves that it's all in the perspective, though, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Rhett replied. "I suppose it does."

He wondered if Wade even noticed that he had called him 'uncle.'

Even though he spent the entire train ride talking to Wade, Rhett was aware of the impatience building in him. Sometimes he wondered how he had ever thought that he could forget Scarlett so easily, just walk away and be done with her. Well, he did try. And look at him now! It had been over a decade since he saw her, and he was as anxious as a schoolboy waiting to see the object of his first infatuation.

The train pulled into the station around ten o'clock. They might have arrived earlier, but the first train, the one they had taken, stopped at every small town on the way, which meant that it arrived very little before the second train, which left a full two hours later. Rhett had no luggage to carry – it was clearly understood by everyone that he would be returning to Atlanta on the last evening train – so he was free to leave the train as quickly as he could. He had hoped that perhaps Scarlett had come to meet her son, but no such luck. Will Benteen stood leaning against a shabby buggy, chewing on a stem of grass, his lanky body looking totally relaxed and at ease. His eyes widened as they took in Rhett.

"Well, boy," he greeted Wade. "Looks like you put the cat in the chicken coop 'gain, s'far as your Auntie's concerned. Don't reckon as I'll be helpin' you out none, neither."

"I wouldn't expect it, Uncle Will," Wade assured him, shaking the older man's hand firmly. "I can take care of Aunt Suellen."

Will gave a bark of laughter. "Braver men than you've said that," he told Wade. "Good t'see you again, Cap'n Butler; gotta say, though, you have interestin' timin'."

"I do, don't I?" Rhett asked. Will's hand felt rough and dry under his hand as they shook, more like wood than flesh.

The drive to Tara, normally accomplished in fifteen minutes, seemed to take three or even four times that long today. Rhett vaguely heard Will and Wade talking, but he made no effort to join their conversation, and was completely unaware of Will watching him, a faint frown on his face.

Then they came over the hill, and the house that Scarlett loved above all others was below them, and Rhett could see people on the lawn, moving around. Surely one of them was her?

Most of the people were servants. Even had he not known that an important social affair was being held at Tara later in the week, he would have read the signs easily. A series of pavilions had been built, each covered with a colorful awning, and tables and chairs were being brought out of storage, cleaned and set up.

It looked completely chaotic, but Rhett had grown up on a plantation, and knew that appearances were deceptive. By the time guests began to arrive, everything would have been put together so seamlessly that it would seem that the hostesses had done nothing but don pretty clothes and prepare to greet the guests. The thought only briefly touched his mind, however, for he heard the click of a latch and looked up.

And there, at last, emerging from a side door, was Scarlett.

He had a moment to observe her before she saw him, and he took full advantage of it. She looked a great deal like he remembered; tall and still slender, she carried herself with a natural elegance that time had not changed. Her hair was darkest ebony, and if he had still been a betting man, he would have bet it owed nothing to dye. Her eyes were still a deep emerald-green, and they still sparkled with life and energy. There were a few lines around her eyes and mouth, but all-in-all, she could almost have passed for the sixteen-year-old girl who had so enthralled him all those years ago.

He walked towards her slowly, enjoying the view. She wore a plain dress, obviously meant for work; its lines did not flatter her, but the light green color suited her well. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun, but little tendrils escaped to curl around her face. She was talking to the man beside her, gesturing to one of the pavilions as she did so. She gave her attention so completely to what she was doing that he was within a few feet of her before she knew he was there.

Then she looked up, and their eyes met.

Her lips made a perfect cupid's bow of surprise. Rhett remembered that in the honeymoon of their marriage, before she had become pregnant with Bonnie, he had loved to bring her presents just to see that expression... and kiss it off her face. He restrained himself now, but it took a disquieting amount of effort.

"Scarlett," he said, taking her hand and raising it too his lips. "You look as lovely as ever."

After a moment of startled surprise, she burst into laughter.

"Why, Rhett Butler, you're just as much of a varmint as ever!"

**All right, so Scarlett is center stage, and it doesn't look like she and Rhett are going to shoot each other... not yet, anyway. We've discovered that she did remarry, but the circumstances are still a mystery. I think Rhett and Scarlett are overdue for a long conversation, don't you? **

**Review and let me know if you like it! I'll consider any suggestions for what they ask each other in the next chapter, though I can't promise anything! **


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter Five**

* * *

He smiled irresistibly. "Well, hello to you, too, Scarlett," he said. He took her hand and kissed it. "In what particular way have I offended you today, my pet?" he asked.

"I should have known that if you ever showed up in my life again, it wouldn't be on an occasion such as the wedding later this week, when I'll be dressed in my best, with my hair styled, my jewelry and make-up just so! No, you show up two days before the wedding, when I'm wearing my oldest gown, my hair all down around my face, not a bit of jewelry or a smidgen of rouge anywhere to be seen. I mean, look at me, Rhett!" She flung her arms out, and he took complete advantage of her permission, letting his eyes wander over her in a most insolent way.

"Oh, I am," he said, in the dulcet tones he had once used to persuade her to wear a charming bonnet when she was officially in mourning for her first husband. "And all I can say, Scarlett, is that it's a good thing I did catch you unaware; considering the effect that seeing you in your ordinary attire has on me, I'm not at all certain my aging heart could stand it if my first sight of you – after all these years – was of you in full regalia."

She laughed, merrily. "How you do run on!" she said. "Like I said, you're the same varmint you always were. There's just one thing you might ought to remember, Rhett -" she stepped closer, put a hand on his arm; to any one else it might have looked as if she were murmuring something private to him, "- and that is, that I'm _not your 'pet'_. Never again." She continued to smile at him, but her eyes were _hard as nails_, as he once told her. Eyes that one might see _above a dueling pistol at twenty _paces. Then she stepped back, and the expression was gone.

"How did you get here, anyway?" she asked, in a conversational tone. "Did you come for the wedding, or just happen to drop in? That would be so like you!"

"I came with Wade," he answered, gesturing to where her son stood. The younger man guarded Scarlett from just the right distance, close enough to assist his mother immediately if she required it, far enough away that conversation in normal tones would not reach him. When Scarlett turned and looked at him, he moved towards them immediately, proving to Rhett that he was watching over Scarlett, and that he preferred that she didn't know it. "Will picked us up at the station."

"Yes, I remember that he said he was going to pick up Wade," Scarlett murmured absently; then, in a louder voice, "Hello, Wade darling."

He bent to kiss the cheek she presented to him. "Mother," he said, and Rhett found himself warmed by the quiet but very real affection between mother and son. "I just wanted to say hello; Uncle Will is going out to the North Pasture, and I thought I'd walk out with him."

Scarlett smiled brilliantly at him. "And so you shall, my darling son, so you shall – just as soon as you go into the kitchen and explain to your Aunt Suellen about the unexpected guest you've brought with you. I suppose you know how long you've invited him to stay, so you can explain the whole thing to your Aunt."

"But mother," he began. Amused, Rhett noted that the young man who had so impressed him with his maturity and competence only yesterday, had a distinct _whine_ to his voice. 'Mothers!' he thought, recalling, with great affection, his own.

"I don't want to hear it, Wade Hampton! You took it upon yourself to invite an extra guest, now you can explain that to your Aunt Suellen. March, young man, and I don't want to see you out here again until it's done!"

"Yes, mother," Wade said, his head lowered. Rhett might have been concerned if he hadn't seen the young man turn his head and give him a deliberate wink.

Still, his good manners, or what was left of them, prompted Rhett to say, "Scarlett, if it's really inconvenient - "

She allowed him to go no further. "Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! Suellen will certainly act as if it's the end of the world, but the day Tara can't afford to feed an extra mouth or two is the day we shut the doors and withdraw from the world forever. If she says anything too outrageous to you, just remind her that the money paying for the wedding is mine, not hers, and tell her I've invited you!"

"Have you Scarlett?" he asked. "Wade told me that you had remarried – perhaps you would prefer that I remain a part of the past?"

She looked up at him, her emerald eyes sparkling. "I'd like a chance to catch up," she said softly. "It's been so long, over a decade... but I also need to tell you that this week is very bad timing. Ella's wedding is a very big event, not just for her, but for me." She shrugged. "I never had this kind of wedding, Rhett, and I want so badly to give it to her. It's what I would have had, if not for the war, and my insane infatuation with Ashley."

If asked, Rhett would have denied that he was still jealous of Ashley. Scarlett had repudiated her passion for the other man long ago, and as far as Rhett knew, she meant it. But still, a deep hurt, long-buried, was soothed by her casual dismissal of the years she had spent wanting what would never have made her happy if she could have gotten it.

"After the wedding, then?" he asked, taking her hand and smiling down at her. "You can come to Atlanta, and we'll go for a long walk around town, see the old sights and give the society biddies something to talk about, and then we can catch up over dinner."

She smiled at him. "That sounds like a lovely plan," she said. She lowered her eyes, looking at him through her lashes, and he thought that when she did that, she really did look like a girl again. "There is one thing I probably ought to tell you, though. Did Wade mention that I remarried, and am widowed again?"

"Yes, he told me," Rhett replied.

"And did he happen to mention the twins?"

Rhett shook his head, frowning in confusion. "What twins?" he asked.

"Why, my twins, of course. My children. They're five now."

Rhett's face went blank with surprise, and – dare he admit it – a bit of jealousy. Scarlett had gone on and had more children, with another man, children who she undoubtedly loved as he had loved Bonnie. Mostly, however, he just felt sad; this was still another thing he had lost, and would never have again.

"Why no, Wade didn't mention them," Rhett said slowly. "In fact, he didn't really intend to tell me you had married and been widowed again; it just slipped out in the midst of his defense of you against Suellen's bitterness."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Did it? Well, maybe so, but I think you'll find that Wade allows very little to 'just slip out,' as you put it. For a young man, he's quite canny, especially when you consider that Charles Hamilton hadn't an ounce of guile in him."

"True enough," Rhett admitted. "And he might not have thought it necessary to tell me about the twins because he didn't believe that I would make a fuss about them. He knows I like children."

"No one knows it better," she murmured softly, remembering how Rhett had loved Wade as a little boy. "I owe you a great debt of gratitude for them, Rhett. Don't think I don't know that, 'cause I do."

"How you do run on, to use one of your favorite phrases" he laughed. "Wade was easy to love. I have to admit, Ella was a bit harder; her short attention span irritated me sometimes, but even she was a pleasant natured child."

"Oh, yes, Ella. She'll be delighted to see you, Rhett; she was always so fond of you. When we lived in England, she named her favorite horse 'Charleston' after you, did you know?"

"I'm honored," Rhett laughed.

"Yes, and who would have thought she would have turned out so pretty? I confess, I never did."

"I haven't seen Ella yet, so I couldn't say."

"Oh, yes. There were dozens of broken hearts in London, when she decided to marry Justin. Come inside and I'll take you to her."

* * *

**This chapter was very hard to write. Good dialogue is difficult for me; if it's witty, it doesn't advance the plot, and if it advances the plot, it has all the charm of the yearly inventory of the linen cupboard. This took a lot longer than you would think, considering that the chapter is pretty short. Some of Rhett's questions are answered, and others will be soon; Rhett and Scarlett have a dinner date for after the wedding. **

**Review and let me know if all that dialogue was useful and/or charming. As always, I love suggestions and critiques.**


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter Six**

* * *

Scarlett led Rhett into the house through the small side door that opened into the kitchen. In the old days, before the war, when Scarlett was the belle of the county, it would have been unthinkable to bring a guest into the house by any but the main entrance. But that was long ago, in a different world, and Scarlett led the way with the aplomb of a woman long accustomed to doing as she pleased. Wade was in the corner by the cookstove, listening politely to his Aunt as she harangued him; Scarlett passed them by so smoothly that before Suellen realized that her sister was there, they were gone, emerging from the stifling heat of the kitchen into the comparative coolness of the dim interior hallway that led them to the foot of the main staircase.

"Wait here," she told him, "I'll go get Ella and bring her down. She's been with the bridesmaids all day, trying on different gowns from her trousseau, so it may take a few minutes."

He smiled. "I believe I'll just step out on the verandah and have a cigar," he said reassuringly, smiling at her. "Tell Miss Ella that I'll be waiting, no matter how long it takes."

He sat on an old wicker chair on the verandah, unknowingly occupying the very spot where, a lifetime ago, Stuart Tarleton had sat and flirted with Scarlett the day before the war began. Smoking an expensive cheroot and looking out over the fields brought Rhett a poignant sadness. Will did the best he could with what he had, Rhett knew, but Tara was a family farm now, not a plantation in the old sense of the word. There was probably no more than forty acres of cotton growing, with perhaps twenty acres more evenly divided between corn and hay, which would be used for the livestock. So – sixty acres under cultivation, where there once was six hundred. Rhett remembered his first visit to the area, when he had accompanied that fool, Frank Kennedy, to Twelve Oaks for a barbecue. So much had been lost since then, and a great deal of it was never coming back.

"Not in my lifetime, anyway," he murmured to himself. Then hearing the door open behind him, he shook off his unwonted melancholy; stubbing out his cigar, he turned to see Ella running towards him. "Uncle Rhett!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around him. "How wonderful that you could come to my wedding. I'm so happy you are here. Mama said you came with Wade. Hasn't he grown up fine? Have you met Justin yet? Do you like him? You must – he's the nicest man in the world! Are you going to stay for long? Have you met - "

Laughing, Rhett put a finger to her lips; she fell silent, but smiled up at him with her eyes. They had always been her best feature, a clear, bright hazel that matched no one else in her family, but now the rest of her had matured into similar loveliness. Her hair, which had once been all gingery frizz, had darkened to a warm auburn that fell in carefully controlled ringlets around her face. Her face, once dominated by the heavy brow of her Robillard ancestors, had matured into a balance that was strong without being unfeminine. Rhett suspected, with the knowledge of women's artifices that he had gleaned from the acquaintance of many ladies, that she darkened her lashes, but he didn't hold that against her. Even the plumpness that had once cause mammy such concern was gone, replaced by a slender build that curved in all the right places. Altogether, she was a girl who could hold up her head in any company.

"Why Ella," he said, bending to kiss her cheek "You've grown into a beautiful young lady!"

Ella blushed becomingly, lowering her lashes modestly, as young ladies were supposed to do. "Well, you needn't sound so surprised, Uncle Rhett! After all, I'm my mother's daughter, and no one who knows her would ever believe that Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler Fontaine would have a daughter who wasn't at least passably pretty!"

It was an obvious hint for further compliments, but, strangely for him, Rhett did not seem to notice. Frowning, he murmured, "Fontaine? One of the local Fontaines? The oldest died during the war, but there were two brothers... Alex and..."

Looking at him, Ella sighed, then smiled in resignation. Uncle Rhett was just one of the many men who still found her mother fascinating to the exclusion of all else. Ella did not understand it – mama was so _old_ – but she had seen the preoccupied look that Uncle Rhett was wearing now in the faces of too many men to doubt the attraction.

"Alex and Tony," she told him. "Mama's last husband was a man named Tony Fontaine, and she had known him since they were children together."

"I think I met him once," Rhett said thoughtfully. "He visited Aunt Pitty's house when he was on leave from the war at Christmas one year. '63, I think. After the war, he came home with his brother and tried to settle into farming, but he left one step ahead of a noose when he killed a man... the old overseer, here at Tara."

"Yes, that was Uncle Tony," Ella said. "Mama said he used to have a fiery temper, when he was younger, him and both his brothers, but I never saw it. He was always good to me, and of course, he adored Mama."

"How did she ever meet up with him again?" Rhett asked, in honest curiosity. "I thought he went to Texas?"

"He did," Ella said. "And that's where we met him, in the summer of 1876. He was running the gambling casino at The Beach Hotel in Galveston, Texas, but the day we met him, we were on the beach..."

* * *

_ The sand was hot on the beach, but Ella loved it. It felt good between her toes, and Mama let her run barefoot all day, saying there would be plenty of time to worry about growing into a young lady and keeping her complexion pale. Wade liked to swim and ride the waves, and Mama let him as long as he didn't go out too far. Their nurse was watching him with an eagle eye, and so Ella sat on a blanket at her Mama's feet, playing quietly with the pretty shells she had collected._

_ She didn't really pay attention to the two men who stood near her Mama's chair, one of them smoking a cheroot whose pungent smoke drifted in their direction, causing Mama to cough._

_ Seeing that, the man Ella would come to know as Uncle Tony said something to the other man in a hard voice, putting his hand on the other man's arm. Even at nine years old, Ella knew it wasn't a nice voice, and she looked up, not yet frightened, but ready to be frightened if necessary._

_ The other man, who had blond hair and a surly expression, muttered something very bad, and pushed Uncle Tony's hand away. Then he turned and strode down the beach, his feet kicking up little rooster-tails of sand with every step. Ella knew that was 'cause he was mad._

_Uncle Tony stood staring after him, his hands clenched into fists the way Wade's got when he was angry with her. "Please excuse my – associate's – bad manners, ma'am," he said to Mama. "I think he might actually have been raised in a barn."_

_ Mama laughed, and looked up at Uncle Tony; Ella was surprised, because usually she brushed off any men who tried to talk to her on the beach, but now she was smiling a little '_I have a secret'_ smile that made Ella look at the man with renewed interest. "Well, you could always shoot him for me, Tony," she said playfully. "Or is too much hard likker still spoiling your aim?"_

_ The man looked at Mama then, very sharp and hard, and Ella didn't like that at all. His eyes looked mad and Ella edged closer to Mama's legs. Then the man laughed, and came to hunker down beside Mama's beach chair. "Well, well, Scarlett O'Hara," he said, laughing. "Or I suppose I should say Scarlett Kennedy. You're the last person I would ever have expected to see! What are you doing here?" He didn't sound mad, though, he sounded happy, and Mama laughed._

_ "That is a very long story," she said; for the first time in a long time, she sounded like she used to sound, back when Uncle Rhett used to live with them and she would dress up pretty and go to parties. Ella barely remembered those days; she was only nine, and had a hard time paying attention, anyway, but she knew Mama had been happy then._

_ "Well, I have all the time in the world," Uncle Tony said, sitting down on the blanket and smiling at Ella._

_ After that, he was around a lot, and Ella liked him because he made Mama happy again. At first Wade was mean, and wanted Uncle Tony to go away, but when Ella pointed out to him that Mama was happy now, he stopped being so rude. It took a long time before he liked Uncle Tony, but he didn't start any more fights..._

* * *

"It was an accident that we met Uncle Tony there, but I always thought it was the very best kind of accident, because he and Mama loved each other a lot," Ella said. "After a few months, they got married, and we moved to England, and we were happy for a few years. I had a governess, and Wade went to school, and it was a really good time. Uncle Ashley and Beau came several times, and the twins were born; I think the only thing that stopped Mama from being really happy was that she couldn't go home to Tara."

"She always loved this place," Rhett said, staring out at the hills abstractedly. "I never really understood why."

After a moment, he turned to Ella and smiled. "Well, that's enough about old times, Miss Ella! I want to hear all about the bride, and her groom, of course. Where did you meet him? Do you like his family? Do they like you? Where are you going to live after the wedding?"

Ella giggled, and blushed becomingly as she began to tell him about her fairy-tale romance. It didn't even occur to her to resent the fact that she was never first in Rhett's attention, for she had never been first with him, and now she had Justin.

* * *

**Just in case anyone did not realize, the part in italics was Ella remembering the first time she met 'Uncle Tony.' There will be more on that relationship later, from Scarlett's point of view, but this flashback, with its child-like innocence, was irresistible to write. Let me know what you think of the idea that Scarlett might have met and loved and married an old friend from Clayton County while she was traveling, trying to forget Rhett. For those of you who don't remember his story:Tony had to leave Georgia in a hurry after he killed Jonas Wilkerson, Tara's old overseer, in the reconstruction period after the war, and that's why he can't go home. **

**I'd love to get some reviews telling me what you think. Next chapter on Monday, I hope, and Scarlett still has some secrets to reveal!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter** Seven**

* * *

Atlanta bustled in the late afternoon sunlight. Rhett decided to walk back to the hotel from the train station, since he had no luggage and Wade had dinner plans already. He would have dinner at a restaurant, he thought, rather than in his hotel room, but later. First he wanted to walk around the town some, see exactly what had changed and what remained the same.

He passed the First Bank of Atlanta, where he had so ostentatiously taken for himself a desk in the days when he was trying to win respectability for Bonnie. He regretted doing it now, and not only because with Bonnie's death, respectability had once again lost its luster for him. In retrospect he could see the deep hypocrisy of his attitude. All the time he had spent telling Scarlett that reputation didn't matter, yet when it came to the point, he had been willing to humble himself get it for his daughter. No wonder Scarlett lost faith in him! When it came right down to it, he hadn't lived up to his own words.

Just down the street, he could see the back of the building that had once housed Belle Watling's saloon and sporting house. Pausing to look at it, his hand resting lightly on the fence railing, Rhett could not help but feel ashamed when he remembered Wade saying, "I was only ten, and I knew."

Somehow, he had deluded himself into believing that the things he did to hurt Scarlett when their marriage soured were justified, but knowing that Wade had suffered for his stepfather's sins made his actions seem cheap and petty. He might have hurt Scarlett, but she would have died before letting him see it, and he should have known that the gossip would filter down to the children. It always did.

His refusal to give up his friendship and business partnership with Belle when he first married had been false pride, nothing more, a way of letting Scarlett know that if she didn't love him, he wouldn't change his life for her. He remembered the incident on their honeymoon, when he had left their bed and gone out to get drunk because he had known she was thinking of Ashley. Now, for the first time, he wondered if she had felt the same way when he came home late after spending the evening at Belle's.

Oh, it was true enough that until Scarlett kicked him out of her bed, his entertainment of choice had been brandy and poker, but would Scarlett have known that? He had given her little reason to trust him, and then became angry when she clung to an irrational dream instead of turning to him as he wanted.

So many things he would do differently, if he were doing them now.

The building was a warehouse now, its days of housing uproarious parties long past. Belle had gone to live with a cousin in Savannah, the wealth she could bring enough reason for her family to allow a reconciliation. Rhett supposed that she probably lived a dog's life, with people who would never appreciate her good qualities, but that wasn't his problem. She had enough money to do as she pleased, and she had thrown away respectability years before he had ever met her.

"Remembering it in its glory days?" a cool, mocking voice asked. Turning, he recognized Ashley Wilkes, looking very little different from the last time Rhett saw him, over a decade earlier.

"Actually, I was thinking the building makes a better warehouse than whorehouse," he replied wearily. He didn't want to argue with Ashley, the man had nothing that Rhett wanted or cared about anymore. Scarlett didn't love him, had married someone else and had children by him, so as far as Rhett cared, Ashley might as well be dead.

"Do you still own half of it?" Ashley asked, and Rhett was mildly surprised to hear the cold hatred in his voice. Once, he had hated Ashley, but it had never occurred to him that the feeling might be reciprocated. Not that he cared.

"No. I sold my share to Belle, years ago. She might still own shares in it, I suppose, but I rather doubt it; as far as I know, she has no plans to return to Atlanta."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Ashley said, and Rhett flashed an insultingly wide smile.

"I've often found it enlightening that so many esteemed gentlemen proclaim views similar to yours in public, while in private they are avid consumers of the 'product' that Belle sold. Hypocrisy at it's finest, wouldn't you say?"

"Are you implying that I've been a customer of Belle's?"

Rhett laughed. "No. I wouldn't expect to find either the vigor or the courage in a fine gentleman such as yourself, Mr Wilkes. No, I'm not implying, but stating outright, that most of the men you know and spend your leisure time with, your friends from boyhood, were customers of Belle's, from time to time, and some of them are probably still customers of whoever replaced her."

"Sporting houses have been outlawed in Atlanta," Ashley said. Rhett's lip curled.

"And if you think that has done anything but put the problem out of sight, you're an even bigger fool than I thought," he said, viciously. "You might prefer to turn a blind eye, but I'm willing to bet that any man who cared to try could find a paid woman to warm his bed, even you."

"Except that I wouldn't 'care to try,' unlike you!" Even as enraged as he was by the other man's gall, Rhett was surprised to see that Ashley looked just as angry. "I never knew what they saw in you," he said, his voice deep and shaking with emotion. "Any of them, Scarlett, Wade, Ella... even my Melanie, who was the most pure and tender woman I've ever known, couldn't see what a coarse cad you are, a man with no moral sense at all."

"What I object to are not your views, but the way you attempt to foist them off on other people." Rhett said coldly. "Outlawing prostitution does not rid the city of prostitutes, it merely drives the practice underground, making it more expensive and harder to regulate. Say what you might about Belle, she didn't use force to recruit her girls, or steal the customers blind because she knew they couldn't complain that they'd been with a whore who stole from them, both practices that I expect are rife in your new, more _moral_ Atlanta! And as far as Miss Melly was concerned, she was a better woman than either one of us had any business even being allowed to know."

"Certainly better than you had any right to know," Ashley retorted.

Rhett looked at him curiously. "And do you really think that you're so much better than I am?" he asked.

"Of course. You have none of the refinement or sensibility that mark a true gentleman -"

"And that's what you regard as being the good? Refinement and gentlemanly behavior, while you secretly lust after another man's wife?" Rhett laughed and turned away. "It's a very good thing that you were never free to have Scarlett when she wanted you, Mr. Wilkes. You would have made her utterly miserable."

"Odd, then, that when she was finally free to marry a man without considering anything but her own wishes, the man she chose _was_ a gentleman."

Rhett paused. He didn't want to talk to Ashley anymore, but he did want to know more about the man Scarlett had married. "Was he?" he asked carefully

"Of course. He grew up in the County; his family's plantation was the fourth largest in the area."

"And yet, he had to leave the area for murdering a man," Rhett said, in a soft voice. "That implies that he was at least capable of behavior that wasn't 'refined,' or 'gentlemanly.'"

"Tony Fontaine killed a man to protect our women folk from the consequences of the vile nonsense the man was spewing," Ashley retorted. "That makes him more of a gentleman, not less!"

"Odd, that murder can be condoned, when you dislike the victim, but not otherwise," Rhett said. "But go on, by all means. Tell me what charms Mr. Fontaine must have had to lure Scarlett into wedlock?"

"He was well-read, intelligent, an excellent rider. All the traits of a gentleman."

"Hell, I'm all of those things," Rhett laughed. "So tell me, Mr Wilkes, was he a good husband to Scarlett?"

To Rhett's surprise, he saw a faint flush come into Ashley's face. "I don't pretend to know the – the more intimate details of someone else's marriage," he said. "I will say, however, that on all of the occasions when I saw them together, I believe that Scarlett was happier than I ever saw her with anyone else. Including you!"

Rhett nodded. "From what I've gathered, you're right about that," he said, "Everyone who knew them seems to think they were very happy together. And though I'm not usually inclined to take someone else's word for it, I guess I'll have to this time. Because she's not around to ask."

"No," Ashley said, his face dark, as if insulted that Rhett drew his own conclusions. "And it's not as if it would be hard for someone to make her happier than you did!"

Somewhat to Ashley's surprise, Rhett had no snappy comeback for that. Instead he turned back to look at the blank, unrevealing wall of the warehouse. "No," he said after a moment, his voice tired. "No, making her happier than I did wouldn't have been a difficult feat at all."

When he had parted company with Ashley, Rhett found he had lost most of his desire for a trip down memory lane. It seemed that for him, that particular path was overgrown with thorns and thistles, most of which he had planted with his own hands. Instead of having dinner in a restaurant, he returned to the hotel and ordered a quick meal from room service. The wedding would take place the day after tomorrow, he reflected, and then he would be able to have a private conversation with Scarlett. Maybe hearing her story would help to relieve the increasingly empty feeling inside him.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the long narrative at the beginning; not much action in those scenes, but I needed to make it clear that Rhett is thinking about his role in the failure of his marriage, and I couldn't really think of a way to do it without just telling you. It's not like he could 'act out' his thoughts, and I can't imagine a man of his time talking to anyone about his deepest feelings. Except maybe to Scarlett. But that comes later!**

**Anyway, I tried to balance it out with a nice scene between Ashley and Rhett, showing that they still hate each other, after all these years. Some things really don't change! Please review and let me know how you like it or don't like it. I love to hear from you, even when you disagree with me!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

Scarlett adjusted the veil over her daughter's hair. "Be still for just a few seconds more," she murmured, carefully pinning the heavy Belgian lace in place. "I've almost got it."

"I'm trying, Mama, but you know how hard it is for me to be still," Ella said.

Scarlett smiled and carefully released the lace, relieved when the shimmery folds did not move. "There, that should do!" she said. "You did good, Ella-bunny, I'm proud of you."

"Do you think Uncle Tony would be proud of me?" she asked.

Scarlett kissed the younger girl on the cheek. "I'm sure of it," she said. "He was very fond of you, darling: I'm sure it would please him to see you marrying such a fine young man as Justin."

Ella giggled a little. "He is fine, isn't he? I made a good choice?"

"Do you have doubts?" Scarlett asked, alarmed.

"No, not really. Only, I kept thinking, all last night, that I have to be really sure, because this would be the last chance to call it off. Once I marry him, we're pretty much stuck with it."

"That's usually how it goes, darling," Scarlett agreed. Deliberately, she did not think of Rhett, with whom marriage had not been final.

"Mama? Did you love my father when you married him?"

"No," Scarlett said with painful honesty. "The only one of my husbands that I loved when I married him was Tony. I was very unkind to the men who loved me when I was young, Ella." She could almost hear the echo of Rhett's voice, calling her a cruel, destructive little cat, who didn't even bother to sheath her claws.

"Did you make them unhappy, Mama?"

"I did, but you know what, Precious? I made myself just as unhappy! Try to remember to be kind to Justin, darling; men are much easier to hurt than you'd think, and it's hard to take mean words back, once you've said them."

"I'll remember, Mama." Leaning forward, Ella kissed her mother's cheek, the merest brush of her lips. "Now, let's call the bridesmaids in and make sure everything is ready; I want to get this started!"

Scarlett was very aware, as she walked into the pavilion, of the eyes that were on her. As always, she had dressed to great effect. A close-fitting gown of the palest apple-green silk followed the slender contours of her upper body to her waist, which, alas! would never be seventeen inches again. There was just the hint of a bustle in back – Scarlett hated huge bustles and refused to wear them, even to be fashionable – and the hem and sleeves were embroidered with vine and leaves in a slightly darker shade of green. It was a dress that would never have appealed to her in the old days – the cut was too severe , the neckline too high – but it became her well, and allowed attention to be directed where it should be, to the bride.

She paid little attention to Justin's family, although his mother had just taken her seat. Scarlett tended to share Wade's view of Ella's future in-laws. They were not the people she wanted to celebrate with, but on the other side of the aisle was an overflowing crowd of people, most of whom she had known all her life. They were the guests she had wanted to be at this wedding.

There were Alex and Sally Fontaine, her brother and sister-in-law. Alex had been so grateful when she told him about Tony. Sad about his death, but glad that he'd had a marriage to a woman who loved him. They adored the twins, and Katie and Melanie fit right in with Sally's six children.

Then there were the Tarleton's. Mrs Tarleton was as blunt as ever, though her red hair had faded to gray, and Randa and Camilla still taught school. Neither they nor their sister Hetty had ever married; the beaux they had mostly died in battle, and Betsy's husband, a plump, one-armed veteran, would have been completely unthinkable for a girl of her class before the war. Betsy had two children, a boy and a girl, and it hurt something in Scarlett's heart to realize that, with eight healthy children raised to adulthood, two grandchildren was all old Mrs Tarleton ever got.

Dimity Munroe was here, and the surprising thing was, she brought her husband, an older, dignified man who had been a Colonel in one of the infantry regiments. Scarlett hadn't thought Dimity would ever marry; she had waited for Alex for so long, only to lose him in the end to Sally. Good for her! Scarlett thought, giving the other girl an almost subliminal smile, returned by an equally tiny nod. The two women understood each other just fine.

Quite a few people from Atlanta attended. Frank's sister, his only living family other than Ella herself, was here. She had always hated Scarlett, but considered it her duty to see her poor, orphaned niece married, so she reluctantly accepted Scarlett's hospitality. She would leave right after the wedding, and Scarlett felt that with a little luck, she wouldn't set eyes on the older woman again until it was time to christen the first baby. Some wounds just couldn't be healed.

Mrs. Merriweather came, dressed in the unrelieved black that was the proper attire for widows. She had told Scarlett this, with a loud sniff, but Scarlett merely leaned over and kissed her cheek and welcomed her to Tara. The time had long passed when she could be affected by what other people thought. Beside Mrs. Merriweather were the Elsings, Dr. and Mrs. Meade and Uncle Henry, as short and pot-bellied and irascible as ever.

In the row behind that reserved for the bride's family were the Wilkes's. Honey brought her husband, but fortunately, they left their brood of children – nine of them! - at home with a convenient mama-in-law. Secretly, Scarlett thought Honey was probably grateful for a break, no matter how brief. India sat beside her sister, and the contrast could not have been more marked, for where Honey was plump and giggly and still blond, India was thin and stern and had gone completely gray. Her disapproving gaze swept the crowd regularly, and Scarlett thought, uncharitably, that she was probably looking for things to criticize. Beside India sat Ashley, as handsome and dignified as ever, then Beau, who struggled unsuccessfully to hide his boredom. Visiting Tara and seeing his cousins again was fun, but weddings and dressing up in a suit in the August heat were not.

Alone in the aisle reserved for family was Rhett, as swarthy and dark-haired as ever. Scarlett was taken aback when Ella had insisted that she wanted him there, and Rhett himself had warned her that it might cause unwanted gossip. Ella's lips had tightened, and she tossed her head imperiously. In that moment, if no other, she reminded Scarlett of Bonnie, and she had not been surprised when Rhett gave in gracefully. Now Scarlett slipped in beside him, ignoring the frown that crossed Ashley's face when he saw Rhett lightly touch her arm. His opinion held no importance for her anymore. She turned to watch the wedding processional.

The bridesmaids came first, dressed in primrose satin; four of them were Justin's cousins, girls that Scarlett had found tiresome. They were so young, not a care in the world besides beaux and pretty dresses. Scarlett was quite aware of the irony of that thought in her head, but she also knew that she was no longer that girl; not only that, but she no longer wanted to be. She was grown up now, and she loved it. There was a confidence that had come to her with age, an assurance that what she was doing was right for her, and would have to be good enough for everyone else.

After the bridesmaids, the music swelled to a crescendo; briefly, Scarlett thought of the cost of getting a piano out here, to replace the one that the Yankees had destroyed during the war. Then Ella appeared in the flower-bedecked opening, one hand holding her bouquet of the lovely yellow roses that had been Ellen's joy, the other resting lightly on her brother's arm. All thought of money left Scarlett's mind in her joy at seeing her two eldest children in such a happy moment. She was unaware that tears were streaming down her face until Rhett pressed a handkerchief into her hand.

"You never have one when you need it," he said, in a whisper so soft that she would have missed it if his mouth hadn't been only inches from her ear.

Wade and Ella arrived at the altar, and ceremoniously transferred Ella's hand to Justin's arm. Then he slipped into a seat beside his mother, smiling in his relief that his part in the wedding was done. The Episcopalian minister, (the only denomination acceptable to Justin's family) cleared his throat and began the familiar ceremony. "Dearly Beloved..."

Four times, Scarlett thought. Four times I stood in front of a minister, and heard these very words, and only once did they meant anything to me besides an opportunity to get my own way. When I married Tony, I had finally understood what love really was...

* * *

_ "What did you say?" I asked._

_He looked at me, his eyes dark and unfathomable. We had spent a great deal of time together in the last month; almost every day, and part of every evening. It was only natural, I told myself; two exiles half-a-continent away from home, sharing their memories of home and family. Ella adored Tony, and Wade, though less trusting, was slowly coming around. We were comfortable with each other, and Tony treated my tiny rented cottage on the beach almost as a second home._

_ Which is why I couldn't believe he had said what I thought I heard._

_ "I think you should go," he repeated. "You've already been here longer than you intended. Soon summer will be over, and the tourists will go home. You should go, too."_

_ "But – but why? I thought we were friends, Tony. I thought you enjoyed having me here!"_

_ "We are and I do," he said, roughly. "That's just the problem, Scarlett; I enjoy your company too much. I'm beginning to fall in love with you, and that's not a pain I want to deal with! So it's better if you go."_

_ "But you -" I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "You were never really one of my beaux, back in the old days," I said. _

_ He laughed._

_ "No, I wasn't, was I? As a matter of fact, Scarlett, I never much liked you in the old days. Oh, you were beautiful, and you had a – I don't know, a magnetism about you that attracted me against my will, but I would never have tried to seriously court you. I thought you were selfish and spoiled and would have some serious growing up to do before you'd make a good wife. If Charlie had lived, you'd have put the poor devil through the wringer, and you did put Frank through hell, so I wasn't wrong about you, was I?"_

_ "No," I whispered. His words wounded me in a deeper way than I had ever felt before, and I wasn't sure I could have said more without bursting into tears._

_ "So when I saw you on the beach, I thought it was fine. We could be friends, fellow exiles, because when it came right down to it, there was no risk to my feelings; I didn't like you all that much, let alone love you." _

_ He looked at her, and she forced herself to meet his eyes, refusing to back away even though he was hurting her with every word._

_ "I thought there would be a natural barrier between us," he said. "I thought even if you wanted me for a lover, I could oblige you and it wouldn't matter, because we wouldn't get too close. I'd always find the place where I just don't like you, the place where you are selfish and spoiled, and that would keep me from caring too much..."_

_ He put his hands on her shoulders and she was surprised by how good that felt. How right._

_ "But it didn't happen," he whispered. "I haven't found that place, all I've seen of you is good and true, you've become the best that you could, learning from all the bad things, and I find myself liking you more and more, and pretty soon, just being friends isn't going to be enough, Scarlett. We need to end this now, while I still can."_

_ "Maybe we don't," I whispered. "Maybe I could feel something for you, too."_

_ His hands tightened on my shoulders almost painfully. "You must be sure before you say that," he said, and I heard the yearning in his voice, saw the desire in his eyes. "Because, Scarlett, I'm not talking about the kind of light-hearted romance you had with – say – the Tarleton twins, where they competed for your dances and smiles and then were friends again after the party was over. I'm talking about loving you so deeply that you'd have the power to destroy me, where if another man came between us, I would be perfectly capable of killing him, the kind of love that will either be a fire to warm myself in for my whole life or a conflagration that will completely consume us both." He smiled at me, very gently. "I'm talking about _everything_, Scarlett."_

_ "Yes," I said, and in that moment, I knew it was true. The reason I had mistaken my feelings was simple:I had never fallen in love in a happy way before, unless you counted the time with Ashley, before the war. But now that I thought about it, it was easy to see. The reason I had enjoyed Tony's company so much, missed him when he wasn't around, thought of things I wanted to tell him, show him, do with him, was because I was falling in love with him._

_He started to kiss me, lowered his head to do so, and I made no effort to stop him; I wanted it too. But then he pulled back. _

_ "No," he said. "No, Scarlett, not tonight. I want you have tonight to think about it, really think about it. Tomorrow, you can give me an answer, and we'll go from there." He took my hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. "Je t'aime, ma chere," he murmured. It was only later that I realized he had just told me he loved me from the first time._

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is so much longer than most of the others. I like short, concise chapters, but this time, Scarlett insisted on including the flashback to her relationship with Tony. Short of gagging her, what could I do but let her have her say?  
**

**Review and let me know if you like it. I would be particularly interested in hearing if you thought the scene between Tony and Scarlett was plausible. Also, the next chapter will still deal with the wedding and guests, so if there's anyone else you'd like me to catch up with, let me know and I'll try to get them in, or at least show why they're not present. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't usually do A/Ns at the beginning, but I'm making an exception here because I want to make it clear that I do not agree with the views on segregation that the characters in the original GWTW held. To deny that segregation existed and was accepted across a broad spectrum of society, however, would be to deny a historical truth. I apologize to anyone who finds this offensive, and assure you that my only intent was accuracy.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Once the ceremony was over, and the newly made husband and wife had walked arm-in-arm back down the aisle, Rhett stood up and offered his arm to Scarlett. She accepted, in an off-hand manner that told him that she had not been remembering their wedding, as he had. Curious, he glanced down at her.

"What were you thinking about, during the ceremony, to make you cry?" he asked. "It seems a bit unlike you to be so sentimental, my dear."

She laughed. "There's not been all that much to be sentimental about in my life," she said wryly. "Looking back, it sometimes seems as if I've spent my life blundering from one disaster to another, never understanding what I was doing until it was too late to prevent the damage."

"Oh, come now, it hasn't been all that bad!" he protested. "You have Wade and Ella and your twins. I haven't met the two younger ones yet, but if the esteem that Wade and Ella feel for you is any sign, you've become a good mother."

"Yes, but I almost left it too late," she said, as they left the wedding pavilion and headed to the reception buffet. "If it hadn't been for Tony, I'm not sure I would have done as well with as I did even with Wade and Ella. He was like you, Rhett; he had a natural way with children. I was thinking of him during the wedding. I miss him so much," she said, a misty softness in her eyes. It was the look he had once longed to see in her eyes directed at him, and he realized, with a profound sense of loss, that never to have seen that would be one of the sharpest regrets of his life.

"I'm sorry you lost him," he told her.

Scarlett stared at him, surprised by the gentle sincerity in his voice. "Well, that's new," she said.

"What?" he asked, stroking his mustache in a characteristic gesture.

"You, being sorry for anything that isn't directly related to your own comfort or well-being," she said, frankly. "Rhett, I have to go now. As mother-of-the-bride, receiving guests is one of my duties. We'll talk later, I promise."

"Of course," Rhett said, bowing with more formality than usual as she left, hurrying in the direction of the reception. Her words had rather taken the wind out of his sails, and he was glad he didn't have to speak further to her now. Was that really how she saw him? More important, was that what he really was? A man who was incapable of feeling for anyone but himself?

Avoiding the line to get into the reception buffet, he walked around the corner of the house, hoping to find a private place to smoke a cigar and think, but no such luck. The servants had a place back here, where they would have a meal away from the main pavilion, just as they had their own place from which to watch the wedding.

Watching, Rhett wondered just how much longer the former planter class expected that segregation would continue. He had an uneasy feeling that because slavery was gone did not mean that equality was on the horizon, and he personally knew a dozen men who would resist the notion with violence if necessary. Hard times were coming, he thought. Hard times for everyone.

"Why, h'lo there, Cap'n Butler," a deep drawling voice said from beside him. Turning, he saw a young black man whom he didn't recognize but who nevertheless looked very familiar.

"Uhm – hello," he said, feeling as awkward as a schoolboy.

"Ah's Burl, Cap'n Butler. Pork an' Dilcey's boy Burl. Ah used ta hol' the hosses fer ya, back when ya lived in 'lanta 'th Miz Scarlett."

"Ah, yes, I remember now," Rhett said, although the tall, vigorous man beside him in no way resembled the small urchin he used to toss pennies to, back when he and Scarlett lived in the house on Peachtree Street.

"Seein' ya heah, Ah jes wanted ta see if'n ya needs anythin', Cap'n. My ma, she think lot's of ya, wouldn't want ya ta be needin' somethin' 'thout one of us gets it fer ya."

"No, no I'm fine Burl. I just wanted to find a quiet place to have a cigar and think."

Burl nodded. "All righ' Cap'n Butler, Ah wo'n' trouble ya no mo'." He turned away. Before he had gone two steps, Rhett thought of something that he did want to ask.

"Burl?" he called. The younger man turned. "Could you tell me where mammy is buried? I'd like to pay my respects while I'm here."

But Burl was shaking his head. "Nassuh, Cap'n Butler, I caint do tha'. Ah cain takes ya ta pay yer r'specs, but not to no cemetery. Ya see, Cap'n Butler, Mammy, she ain' daid yet."

The woman who lay upon the bed in the corner bedroom, in no way resembled the mammy he had known. The last time he had seen her, she had been visibly old, but the being who lay here was a shrivelled husk, a dried shell of a person who surely weighed less than ninety pounds.

""Ah doan know if'n she 'll wake up fuh ya, Cap'n Butler," Burl's soft voice said. "Some days, she doan ha'dly open he' eyes, jes ta take a bit of watuh, or a bite o' bread. Ma sez she caint las' much longer, but Ah don' know."

"Who dis ya done brought ta see me, Burl?"

Mammy's voice was a dry, cracked wheeze, but Rhett could hear her well enough.

"It's Rhett Butler, Mammy," he said, stepping to the edge of the bed, his hat in his hand. Burl moved to wait outside the door, respectfully allowing them their privacy.

"Cap'n Butler? Well, Ah do d'clare! Got's to admit, I di'n think Ah'd evuh be seein' ya 'gain."

"Now, Mammy, you know I can't keep away from my best girl," Rhett said, smiling as he stepped to the edge of the bed and gently took her withered hand in his.

"Hmph. Looks lak ya stayed away plenty long, mist' Rhett. Ah mean, she done married nother man while ya was 'pertendin' ya din' care nothin' bout her, dint she? An' now yer back. Are ya gonna take cair of 'er now?"

"Mammy, I'm going to do my absolute best," he said.

She laughed, a sound that reminded him of dry corn stalks being shaken together by the wind. "Well den, luks like yo needs ta be at da weddin' dancin' with th' mutha of th' bride, 'stead of wastin' ya time heah, talkin' to an ole lady."

"As if any time spent with you could be wasted!" Rhett said. She didn't answer; looking down, he saw that she had fallen into the light, sudden sleep of old age. He released her hand and stepped away, the sad feeling he had at seeing Mammy so old and worn replaced by a determination to do what he had told her he would do. He still had feelings for Scarlett, he admitted it now, and this time, if he was honest and told her so, surely they could find some common ground for a future together?

Rhett made his way back through the house, heading for the side door, where Burl had let him into the house. In the last turn of the corner before he reached the door, he paused, alerted by a muffled giggle to the presence of at least one other person.

"You're going to get us in trouble!" a whispered voice said.

"Chicken!" another taunted. "Bawk, bawk, bawk!"

"It's not chicken to not want to make Mama mad," the first voice hissed. "You know that if we do, she'll send us to bed with no dessert. On the day when they have pecan pie, and peach tarts, and apple fritters, plus cakes!"

"And it would never do for you two young ladies to miss such elegant treats," Rhett, moving around the corner and speaking in his most charming voice. "Perhaps I can help, if you tell me just what your mother's instructions were. Where are you supposed to be?"

"Wh-who are you?" one of the little girls asked, trying to control her shaking voice. Rhett stayed a good way back, not wanting to frighten them further.

"My name is Captain Rhett Butler," he said, smiling at them in a relaxed, friendly way. "I'm a friend of your mother's – that is, if your mother is Scarlett – uh – Scarlett Fontaine?" the name rolled uneasily off his tongue.

The two girls exchanged glances. "Our Mama's name is Scarlett," one said uncertainly.

"And so is mine. I'm Melanie Scarlett!" the braver of the two said. "Mama calls me Lanie. And this is my _little_ sister, Katie Ellen. We call her 'chicken.'"

"Stop it, Lanie! No one calls me 'chicken' except you. And ten minutes doesn't make me littler than you, either!"

Rhett knew from experience with children that this argument could go on all day, so he stepped in. "Did your mother tell you to stay in a certain place, or just away from the buffet?" he asked.

"She said away from the guests," Lanie said.

"But she really meant in the nursery, with Prissy, and our cousins."

"But she didn't _say_ that," Lanie insisted. "She just said that we were to stay away from the guests, and do what Prissy says. And Prissy didn't say we couldn't be here. I want to sneak into the reception and get some food. If we were quick, we wouldn't have to be around the guests! They won't be getting food yet!"

"Well, I have an idea," Rhett said, smiling. "A solution to the problem so to speak."

The two girls stared up at him. "Um, what?" Lanie asked after a moment.

"The solution is that I escort you two young ladies to the front porch, where I believe there is a swing. There you wait for me. I shall endeavor to slip into the food tent, and return with two plates laden with the very best desserts. Then you can eat them, and still obey to your mother, yes?"

"Strawberry Torte?" Katie said. "The kind with ladyfingers?"

"Of course. I said the very best," Rhett assured her seriously.

"I think we could do that," Katie said, uncertainly.

"Of course we could," Lanie said, grabbing the hand Rhett extended. It took Katie a moment longer but the thought of Strawberry Torte was evidently too much to resist, and after another brief hesitation, she took his other hand and he walked them to the front porch.

As he assisted them onto the front porch swing, Rhett studied the two identical girls. There was little doubt that they were Fontaines. They had their father's swarthy skin; there would never be any pale, magnolia complexion for either of them. The color of the eyes, too, was all their father, as black as eyes could be, with little gleams of life and mischief in them. So their father's heritage was clearly there, but everything else, from the shape of their chin to the way their eyebrows grew in wings back from their eyes was their mother.

"I will be back in just a few minutes," he told them, smiling.

"With dessert?" Katie asked contentedly.

"With dessert," Rhett assured her.

"How do we know you'll come back?" Lanie asked. She was definitely the bolder of the two, Rhett decided, looking at her in amusement as she raised her chin and stared at him.

"I'll tell you what," Rhett said. "I'll give you collateral."

"What's that?" Katie asked, interested.

"When you make a promise, you give someone something valuable," Rhett told her, "and they get to keep it until you do what you say you will."

"Oh. What are you going to give us?" Lanie asked, curiously.

"I will give you this pocket watch," he told her, pulling it from his pocket. "It was once my Grandfather's, so you see, it is very valuable to me."

He handed it to Lanie. It looked much larger in her small hands. "Hurry back," she said, with a wicked smile that reminded him of her mother.

* * *

**So, how do you like it? As usual, Rhett knows how to charm the girls, and I expect in this case he plans to use this ability to get closer to their mother. I hope the patois I gave Burl and Mammy wasn't as unreadable as what MM wrote in the original; it was one of the few things in the book that I didn't care for. **

**Review and let me know what you think. Next chapter, a little more wedding reception. We haven't really met Justin or his family yet, have we? Thanks for reading, and like I said, I appreciate knowing your thoughts, negative or positive, so please do review.**


	10. Chapter 10

** Chapter Ten**

Rhett didn't go to the buffet; it would have taken forever, and he didn't have that much time. Instead he went around to the kitchen, hoping against hope that Suellen was in the receiving line and he could find Dilcey in the kitchen. He was fairly sure he could talk her into letting him smuggle a plate of treats for the girls out of the kitchen.

He could, but not without a warning. "If'n ya lets dose girls eats til dey's sick, Miz Scahlett will hab yer haid. She sets lots a store by dem young'uns."

He smiled winningly. "Just tiny slices of pies and cakes, and a spoonful of Strawberry Torte, Dilcey. You're the best cook in the state, and it will make those girls so happy..."

Dilcey rolled her eyes, but her quick hands were already working. "He' ya go, Cap'n Butler. If'n Miz Scahlett asks, Ah doan know nuffin'!"

"Which reminds me," Rhett said. "If Prissy should come looking for the children, tell her that they're on the front porch with me, please? I wouldn't want to worry her unnecessarily."

"Ah'll jes do dat, Cap'n Butler."

Rhett returned to the porch, carrying two plates with minute helpings of several different treats in addition to the beloved Strawberry Torte. The girls were huddled over his pocket watch looking at the elaborate design traced on the cover.

"There's leaves, and trees, and the sun," Lainie said.

"And I think this is supposed to be water," Katie added.

"It is," Rhett said cheerfully. "My grandfather, whose watch it once was, sailed the seven seas, and lived on an island that had trees a lot like those on the watch."

"What island?" Katie asked suspicious

"The island of Jamaica," Rhett answered. "It was home to many – uh – sailors, like my grandfather. I brought you the desserts you wanted, but before you can eat, you must let me tie these cloths around your neck, so that you don't spoil your dresses with chocolate and strawberry stains. Your mother would not forgive that. Stand up, Lanie."

Well acquainted with the eating habits of children, Rhett had taken the precaution of bringing small tablecloths and not simple napkins. These he tied about the girl's necks, letting the folds fall almost to the floor, completely covering their dresses. "There you go. Ready to eat now," he said, handing each of them one of the plates and a fork. "Be as neat as you can," he told them.

"Thank you, sir," Katie said; Lanie was already eating.

"Oh, I'm not a sir," Rhett said. "I think you can call me Cap'n Rhett, don't you?"

"Guess we could, since you're a friend of our mama," Katie said, taking a delicate bite of her Torte. Her sister had already finished hers. "Will you tell us a story?"

Rhett seated himself on the swing between them. "I will. What kind of story would you like?"

"Tell us about your grandfather. The one whose watch you gave us as col-coletelar."

"That would be 'collateral,' my pet," he said. "Very well, but what you have to understand is that my grandfather was not a very nice person. Sometimes he could be mean."

"Why?"

Mostly, I think, because he could. My grandfather was, by all accounts, a huge man, and most people were afraid of him."

"How was he mean?" Lanie asked.

"Well, the truth is, he was a thief." Rhett confided. "A particular kind of thief, though. He was what they call a pirate. He had a ship, and he used it to chase other ships."

Katie nodded solemnly. "Like 'Treasure Island.' Written by Cap'n George North. Cousin Bart told me about that, and showed me the pictures in his magazines. Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum. What's rum, Cap'n Rhett?" She leaned confidingly against his arm, and Rhett had to swallow hard before he cold continue. Bonnie, he thought. Oh, Bonnie.

"Rum is a strong spirit, which would be drunk only by grown men, not young ladies," he told them. "My grandfather was a pirate, however, and he often drank rum. He had a big house in Kingston, which was the capital city of a small island country known as Jamaica. And he lived there for a long time, until he was in the middle years of his life. You would have considered him quite old, my pet, but in his meanness and pirate ways, he was happy, and cared very little of what anyone else thought of him."

"Like Mama," Lanie murmured. She had his watch in her hand, and she was tracing her finger lightly over the engraving.

Rhett laughed. "Very much like your mother, little one. The old Pirate cared nothing for anyone until one day, as he was riding down the street in on his fine black stallion, a stallion so high-spirited that no one but the Pirate could handle him, he saw a very pretty young lady go by in a buggy driven by her father. He was the Lieutenant Governor of the whole island of Jamaica, but that didn't matter to the Pirate. As soon as he saw her, he knew that he wanted her for his own, and he determined to marry her, even if it was against the will of her father and all the respectable people of Kingston."

"Did he care what _she _thought? His pretty lady?" Katie asked. Rhett had already realized that Katie was the insightful one, while Lanie was the more mischievous of the twins.

"Well, that's a good question," Rhett said. "I think... that he was not a man who would question if she thought well of him or not. In his mind, he wanted to do her the honor of making her his wife, and that's all that mattered. Perhaps he was right, for he devised a brilliant plan, calling for a diversion to make sure that her father and all the soldiers on the island were somewhere else, and he went into her house and stole her away. The people who saw this whispered that the pretty lady made no effort to resist, but went with him most willingly. Her father refused to believe it, but his opinion didn't really matter anymore.'

"No, 'cause his girl was gone. Did he ever get to see her again?" Lanie asked.

"Yes, he did. Years later, after the Pirate Captain died, and she had grown to be a mother and married a plantation owner in Charleston. Her children were the Pirate Captain's children, however, for he married her in a secret ceremony the very night he stole her away."

"And were they happy-ever-after, Cap'n Rhett?"

He looked into Lanie's sharp eyes, and compromised with a half-truth. "As happy as two quick-tempered, proud people such as themselves could be," he told her. "They often quarreled, but they always made up, and he gave her many good things - beautiful dresses, a lovely house, jewels and fancy carriages... and three lively children. So how could she not be happy?"

"What a marvellous story," an ironically amused voice said behind them. "And how much of it is true, I wonder?"

"Oh, all of it," Rhett answered, turning to smile at his ex-wife while the children scrambled to their feet. "I might have edited a few – uh – details, but then, I was telling a story to _children_, my dear. There are some things that would be completely unsuitable for their tender ears."

She laughed. "I am aware." She glanced down at the two girls, still covered in tablecloths and holding plates that were empty but for a few crumbs and dollops of whipped cream. "And where did you get the desserts, might I ask?" Scarlett asked the two girls.

"It was my fault completely," Rhett said, his eyes dancing.

"Oh, I'm certain of _that._"

"I asked the girls to stay with me while I partook of a few tidbits of dessert that I got from Dilcey," Rhett said smoothly. "They graciously consented to keep me company while I ate. Charming manners your children have, Scarlett."

"And they're covered by tablecloths – for what reason?"

"Why so that I wouldn't accidentally get chocolate or strawberry stains on them. We couldn't have that, could we?"

"No, of course not," Scarlett murmured. "And I'm sure you can explain why _they_ are holding the plates?"

Rhett looked briefly nonplussed, but recovered quickly. "It's the rheumatism in my hands," he said. "Some days, it hurts to hold even the light weight of a plate."

Scarlett stepped closer and lifted his hand, examining the it closely. "Odd, that there is no swelling or deformity in such a severe case of arthritis," she said, running her fingers lightly over the joints.

He cleared his throat. "And I am grateful for it daily."

Releasing his hand, Scarlett looked down at the children. "Well, girls, do you agree with Captain Butler's version of events?"

Lanie had smiled at Katie, relieved that Mama's friend had accepted the blame. Now, however, she exchanged a glance with her sister, and the smile faded away.

Before Rhett could feel even momentary alarm, he saw Lanie take a step forward and square her shoulders. Looking her mother in the eye, she said, "No, Mama. That's not what happened."

"I see. Then suppose you tell me what did happen," Scarlett said, putting a hand on each girl's shoulder.

"We – um – we wanted to get some desserts," Lanie whispered. "All the good ones go fast, Mama, and I wanted Pecan Pie, and Katie wanted Strawberry Torte. So we slipped away to see if the guests were at the buffet yet. If they weren't, we were going to see if we could – um – get us some desserts, very quick and neat, I promise, Mama!"

"And that's when we met Cap'n Rhett," Katie continued. "He took us to the porch, and made us wait while he got the desserts. He gave us co-clat-" Lanie held up the watch she still held.

"The word is collateral, darling,"Rhett said. "Your mother knows it. In fact, she and I once had a very interesting conversation about it."

He hid a grin when he saw Scarlett's green eyes flash in his direction.

"That's so we could be sure he would come back," Lanie explained solemnly.

"Yes, and Mama, he went and _stole_ the desserts for us. He knows how, 'cause he's the Pirate Captain's grandson," Katie said breathlessly. "And he picked just the right ones, little pieces so we just got a taste, and he covered us up so we wouldn't get dirty. Then he told us the most tremendously good story, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, and then -" Katie's voice dropped dramatically, "- then you came."

"I think I understand what happened," Scarlett said. She sat down on the swing so she was at eye level with her daughters. "First, I want to thank you for telling me the truth. Honesty is very important, so I'm pleased with you about that."

The two girls nodded seriously.

"But – it's also true that you slipped away from Prissy, causing her to worry, and that you had every intention of trying to slip into the buffet tent and get some dessert before the guests came. I know you intended to be 'quick and neat,' Lanie Baby, but that almost certainly wouldn't have worked very well. You're a few years away from 'neat.' So the bad news is, a suitable punishment for that will have to be devised. I'll think about it, and let you know. All right?"

"Yes, Mama," Katie said, and Lanie echoed her. "Now, run find Prissy. I told her to wait in the nursery for you, in case you came back from your wanderings. Scat!"

The two girls scampered away, relieved that they were in no more trouble than that.

Scarlett turned to Rhett, and he was relieved to see that her eyes were laughing not angry. Had she chosen to take this badly, he might have found that charming her daughters was a serious misstep.

"A Pirate Captain? Really, Rhett?"

"It's perfectly true," he said defensively. "My grandfather was a pirate. My father, in his dulling down of the story to achieve respectability, preferred to call the old gent a 'sea captain,' but a pirate is what he actually was."

"Well, my children were certainly thrilled with the tale. Did you really steal the desserts for them?"

"No, I simply walked to the kitchen door and asked Dilcey for a plate of bite-sized pieces of whatever the girls would like best. She didn't have much choice. I do want to compliment you on your children, Scarlett. They're delightful; well-mannered, intelligent and quite lovely, though they have their father's eyes instead of yours."

Tony used to say it was only the color that was his, that the shape and size and lashes were all like mine."

"And that is quite true." Rhett agreed.

Scarlett stood up reluctantly. "Thank you for the compliment, and I admit I agree with you; they are rather darling. Now that I have found them and sent them away to the nursery, I'd better get back to the reception. There will be dancing later, after it gets dark."

"Will you dance with me, Scarlett?"

She flashed him a dazzling smile. "I wouldn't miss it," she told him as she slipped away. "You always were the best dancer!"

* * *

**Don't worry; there's still more to come about the reception. But Scarlett's two daughters were such little scene-stealers, that once I got started with their interaction with Rhett, it was just irresistible. So the reception will be next chapter, with Justin and some of his more regrettable relatives. **

**Oh, and about 'Treasure Island;' most of you know it as a book by Robert Louis Stevenson. He first published it in 1881-1882 as a magazine serial, however, under the pen name Cap'n George North.**

**Please read and review. I love to hear from everyone, and if you sign in with a name, I try to answer. I appreciate guest reviews too; I just have no way to answer them.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Rhett headed towards the buffet pavilion; he might as well get something to eat. The afternoon was draining away; soon it would be evening, and the dancing would begin. Rhett was looking forward to it, although he suspected the ballroom would be stuffy and crowded. But he would get to dance with Scarlett, and that would make any amount of stifling discomfort worthwhile.

Whistling tunelessly, he turned the corner of the house and came upon an unexpected scene. A young girl, no more than sixteen, sobbed in the arms of a young man Rhett had no trouble identifying as Beau Wilkes, who stroked her hair to comfort her. Wade scowled at another man, who met his eyes with a studied air of hauteur. Rhett took an immediate dislike to him; since he was a complete stranger, it could logically be inferred that he was one of the bridegroom's English relatives.

"Penelope is a nice girl, from a good family, not some trolllop you can treat as you please," Wade was saying, his voice precise and very cold. "Though even a trollop would probably object to being handled as roughly as you handled poor Penny. If it weren't for the fact that this is my sister's wedding day, I would thrash you to within an inch of your life, and consider it a deed well-done. If her father had seen this, you would quite probably be dead, sir, and if Penny decides to tell him, that may still happen. Certainly I won't raise a hand to prevent it, so be warned."

"You expect me to be afraid of some – some backwoodsman?" the young man sniffed. "Why, none of them would dare to touch a member of the Kemp family of Lancashire!"

"I assure you, you're wrong," Rhett said, stepping forward, hoping to talk some sense into the young Englishman. "Some of these men would just as soon kill you as not, just for being a foreigner, and even the ones who don't feel that strongly about it wouldn't put up with you manhandling a nice girl."

"And who are you?"

"My name is Captain Rhett Butler."

Evidently the man recognized it, but not in a way that encouraged him to be sensible. "The one who used to be married to that pretty strumpet who's the bride's mother? The one who divorced -" Rhett's fist meeting his jaw silenced whatever other offensive words might have been uttered. The man fell backward and lay still.

"Cousin Rupert, I assume?" Rhett said

"Rodney," Wade corrected gravely, though his lips quivered as though he held back a smile. "The one who looks like a walrus. Personally, I think his family sent him here to get rid of him; man's an embarrassment. If they can force him to stay in this country, they'll probably make him a remittance man, more's the pity. I'd prefer to see him starve, myself."

"He does seem an unpleasant character," Rhett agreed. "And what he was saying about your mother was completely unacceptable."

"Oh, I agree entirely," Wade said. "If you hadn't done it, I was going to hit him myself. Penny, are you all right?"

The girl sniffled, but pulled away from Beau. "I-I'm fine, sir. Just a little shaken up, and my dress is stained -" There were indeed grass stains all along the hem, and at the knees. Evidently, the cad had knocked the girl down, and Rhett felt a grim satisfaction that he had hit him.

Briskly, he turned to Beau. "Can you get your Aunt Scarlett's attention, privately? Tell her that she's needed here, alone?"

Beau nodded grimly. "I can. I'll be back in a minute." Gently he set the girl aside, then turned and headed toward the reception pavilion, barely visible around the corner of the house.

"Scarlett will be able to provide you with a change of clothing, I expect," Rhett said to Penelope. "Knowing her as well as I do, I imagine she has dozens of dresses. I can't see her doing without an extensive wardrobe, somehow," Rhett said. "So the next question, Wade, is what to do with him?" Rhett jabbed Cousin Rodney lightly in the rib with the toe of his boot.

Wade sighed. "It would please me if we could toss him in the river like a piece of garbage, but obviously, that isn't really feasible. I'd like to keep him quiet until the end of the evening, though, for Ella's sake. He's just the type who would make a public scene."

"Well, let's do it then. We'll tie and gag him, and leave one of the servants with him so he won't choke to death on his own vomit. Put him in one of the old slave cabins, blindfolded, so he won't know who did it. Let him go once Ella and her husband have left."

Wade looked at Rodney with a critical eye, then smiled at Rhett. "Sounds good to me," he said cheerfully. "It's certainly no more than he deserves."

By the time Beau returned with Scarlett, Wade had found some rope and proceeded to truss the British guest up quite thoroughly. Hearing the story, Scarlett only sighed. "All right, but make sure one of the servants stays with him every moment, " she told them. "We can't afford to have him die; that would bring too much scrutiny down on us. Come, Penny, darling; let's allow the gentleman to attend to the trash, and we'll find you something else to wear."

The two women went into the house, and Scarlett noticed the shyly admiring way Penny glanced at Beau. Before they had even gotten into the house, Scarlett made her decision; having analyzed everything she knew about Penny and her family's economic status, she believed the girl would be perfect for Beau. The only question was a matter of character, and by the time they had selected a dress, Scarlett had a pretty clear idea about that, as well.

First, she tempted her with dresses. Scarlett herself, at Penny's age, would have loved to have the entire wardrobe of an older but still attractive woman to explore. Penny, however, looked overwhelmed, and even when Scarlett carelessly waved a hand at her wardrobe and said, "Go ahead, dear. Anything you like," her movement towards the opulent clothing was hesitant.

What Penny eventually chose was a plain day dress of ivory silk, with a neckline that had only a slight scoop – it showed no buzzum, as Mammy would have said – and tiny capped sleeves that would show off her arms and make her neck look longer. 'Modest,' Scarlet thought, 'and yet, it suits her well. She has a good sense of style.'

By the time she had helped the younger girl to wash her face and brush out her hair, Scarlett had decided that Penny would be perfect for Beau... if, that is Beau could be persuaded to see it. Men could be so contrary about things like that, and Penny, with her warm hazel eyes and fine brown hair, was not as flashy as some of the other girls. By the time the two women emerged into the bright afternoon sunlight, Scarlett had a plan for that, as well.

Scarlett and Penny met the three men also headed back towards the reception. "Are you certain no one noticed you?" Scarlett asked Rhett.

"As certain as one can be. Wade took us the back way, the way no one but the servants ever uses, so we should be good. We got Burl to watch him; he's a good boy, dependable. He won't let anything happen."

The heat of an August afternoon was giving away to the softer glow of evening, and between them and the pavilion, couples could be seen strolling arm and arm, enjoying the breeze that usually came up an hour or so before sunset. Little groups formed, merged temporarily, then re-arranged themselves in what seemed like an endless kaleidoscope of patterns; with a knowledgable eye, Scarlett saw that several of the young ladies were using that flexibility to bring themselves to the attention of the gentlemen they had chosen.

Penny wasn't one of that kind, however. She had fallen silent once they were back in the company of the young men, leaving Scarlett and Wade to carry much of the burden of the conversation. Scarlet had seen her give Beau another of those shy looks of admiration, however, so she felt quite justified in drawing Beau aside as they came to the pavilion.

"Beau, could you do your Aunt Scarlett a big favor?" she asked, giving him her best smile.

"I can try, Aunt Scarlett," Beau said warily. "What is it you want me to do?"

"Well, when I was helping Penny to change out of her stained clothing, I noticed that she seems rather shaken up by her experience with that dreadful man. Not that I can blame her; Great Balls of Fire, it would be enough to shake anyone's nerves! So could you be a dear and keep an eye on her this afternoon? Make sure she eats, and meets people, and doesn't have time to dwell on things? Maybe even dance with her at the ball?"

Beau looked relieved. Aunt Scarlett, he knew from experience, was capable of asking for perfectly outrageous and impossible things, but this was simple. "Of course, Aunt, I'd be glad to," he told her.

"Thank you so much, darling," she told him as she slipped past him into the pavilion to take up her hostess duties.

* * *

The ballroom at Tara had once seemed like the largest possible place to hold a dance. The Scarlett who had danced in some of the finest ballrooms in London, smiled a bit wistfully at the thought of that other, younger Scarlett, the one who had not yet experienced war, or poverty, or heartbreak. Then she sniffed at her own silliness as she greeted still more of the arriving guests with practiced smiles and air kisses.

That other, younger Scarlett had not experienced real joy, either, or selfless heroism, or true love. She had been spoiled, and selfish, and more than a bit foolish. Given a choice, all the older Scarlett really envied was that seventeen-inch waist; nowadays, if she tried to lace tighter than twenty-one inches, she saw black spots in front of her eyes. Scarlett was not sentimental, and would waste no more time thinking of the past...

Except Rhett was here.

Even as she stood in the receiving line beside Ella and her new husband (oh, and she was a mother-in-law, now; wasn't _that_ a hoot?), her eyes followed Rhett in the crowd. He was taller than most men here, and one could usually see his dark hair from anywhere in the room, but even when the crowd temporarily hid him from view, she discovered that she had no trouble finding him. As if he were true north and she the needle of a compass, she could sense his presence, and pinpoint his location within seconds.

She had not expected that.

She thought she was over him.

She _had_ been over him, dammit! She had moved on, she had married another man and lived happily with him, proudly bearing him two children, and when he died, she had thought she might die, too, so deep and real was her grief.

But she had not died. She had lived, and here she was, in a crowded room with Rhett Butler, and even when he was hidden from her view behind one of the pillars, or a particularly large knot of people, even then, she knew exactly where he was. And what, precisely, was she going to do about that?

She had always thought that if she met Rhett again, it would be with the indifferent civility of old acquaintances, who no longer had strong feelings of any kind for each other. They had moved on; anything else was absurd to imagine.

Wasn't it?

The receiving line ended; it was time to begin the dancing. The bride and groom would start the waltzing; after they had circled the floor twice, the mothers would join in with their chosen partners (neither Ella nor Justin had a living father), then gradually, the rest of the guests. Scarlett had asked Wade to partner her; it seemed only right, and would offer occasion no for gossip or speculation. As the music began, she saw his familiar and beloved form coming toward her, and she waited, watching Ella and Justin. They looked so well and so happy together, he with his gleaming blond head, she with such lovely auburn hair. She had made a beautiful bride, Scarlett thought proudly. She only hoped her daughter's married life would be blessed, as well.

Wade was beside her now, holding out his hand. Before she could take it, however, a suave voice that she knew like the sound of her own breath said, "My dance, I believe, Mrs Fontaine."

When she looked into his dark eyes, she knew that the amused smile he wore was only a cover. A refusal from her now would hurt him. She hesitated – not long enough to injure, only long enough emphasize that she could have, and knew it – then she placed her hand in his, and they began to dance.

* * *

**One of the arts that a fiction writer struggles for is timing; the sense of when to begin, and end, a particular scene, and all I can say it, this scene is over. It took me just as much by surprise as it may be taking you, and disappointed me as much, for I had a whole page of notes on witty things they were going to say to each other, and foreshadowing of future events and all of those lovely tricks that writers try to get into, and none of that matters. Because:This. Scene. Is. Over.**

**I'm truly sorry. The muse has spoken, and I can't afford not to listen, 'cause she's a real *itch when I ignore her.**

**Review. If you hate that the scene ended there, let me know; if you review by profile name, I'll write back and try to explain it in more detail. You can throw (metaphorical) rotten tomatoes at me, and I'll be glad to listen. Scarlett and Rhett are going to get their opportunity to talk, just... not tonight. Again, all comments welcome.**


	12. Chapter 12

Wade stumbled down the stairs to breakfast, exhausted and bleary-eyed, even though it was after noon. When the special train his mother had chartered had arrived back in Atlanta last night with the wedding guests aboard, dawn had broken, and by the time they had herded everyone back to the hotel, it was breakfast time for the hardest working citizens of Atlanta. The guests however, had taken the elevator to their rooms and gone to bed, even Cousin Rodney, who glared at Wade but made no effort to avenge himself upon him. Not yet, anyway; Wade made a mental note to keep an eye on his back until Rodney was gone; he seemed like the kind of man who would plan a sneak attack.

Despite the lateness of the hour, the dining room was almost empty. Wade headed towards it, feeling the need for sustenance; the run down the steps had not invigorated him as much as he had hoped, probably due to the fact that he had slept for fewer than five hours. He ordered his meal, and waited impatiently for coffee. When it came, the waiter handed him a letter along with his cup. Surprised, Wade saw that it was in Ella's handwriting. Fortifying himself by adding a little extra sugar to his coffee, seriously hoping this letter was not a plea for rescue, he opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of the heavy, expensive stationery Ella preferred.

* * *

**Dear Wade, (Ella had written),**

** I am glad the wedding went off so well! I really felt like a fairy-tale bride, and I am so happy **

**that I got to be married from Tara. Not only is it my favorite place from childhood, but now Patty and Diantha cannot spread rumors anymore that there is no plantation, that I am only making it up to hide the fact that I have no background at all. **

**I saw Mama dance with Uncle Rhett. It was so sweet of you to give up your dance with her! Do you suppose they will really get together again? At one time, I would have said it was the most unlikely thing ever, but there's something about the way they look at each other...**

**I just wanted to reassure you that everything is well. I know how you worry about me, even when there is no need, so I will simply say that I am writing this the morning **_**after**_** the wedding, and that I am still as convinced as ever that Justin is the right man for** me!

**Much love, always,**

** Ella.**

* * *

"Who's the letter from?" Rhett asked, slumping into a seat across from Wade.

"Ella," Wade answered; after a moment of thought, he pushed the paper across the table. Rhett read it, a faint frown furrowing his brow.

"Who the devil are Patty and Diantha?" he asked, gruffly.

"Justin's sisters. They're jealous of Ella; they both have faces like the north end of a south bound mule, and husbands who avoid their company as much as possible."

"Mmm," Rhett answered, reading the rest. "Well, it looks like Ella is happy with her choice. That's a good thing, I suppose. What about you, Wade? Do you think she'll be happy with him?"

Wade smiled wryly. "If you're asking me do I believe in happily ever after, I would have to say not. Ella will have a life, and it will, like most people's lives, consist largely in making decisions, and then living with the consequences. I believe that Ella and Justin complement each other in several important ways. He is steady and sober, she is light-hearted and a bit giddy. He enjoys feeling that he is the one guiding and protecting her, and she is smart enough to allow him that illusion without ever relying completely upon it. So they have as good a chance as any, and better than most, to find enduring happiness."

"You don't think Ella will rely on Justin completely?" Rhett asked, gratefully taking a cup of coffee from the waiter.

"I don't think Ella will ever rely on anyone completely," Wade said. "She saw mother after the divorce, you see."

Rhett glanced sharply at Wade, but the younger man had turned to accept his breakfast from the waitress, a young black girl who smiled shyly at him.

"Do you hold that against me?" Rhett asked, surprised to find himself caring a great deal about the answer. Totally apart from Scarlett and the possibility of a reconciliation between them, he valued Wade's good opinion.

"I suppose I did, for a long time," Wade said quietly. "When you left my mother, it didn't seem to occur to you that you left us, too. My sister and I. We were young, and you were the only real father either of us had ever known, and while I can understand that mother is not easy to live with, you defaulted on your responsibilities when you walked away, Uncle Rhett. That's not a thing that can be forgiven lightly or easily. Ella deals with it by refusing to acknowledge it, but I very definitely held a grudge for a long time."

"And what happened to change that?" Rhett asked.

Wade hesitated, then replied very slowly. "I fell in love."

Rhett started to say something, ask a question; then he saw the look in Wade's eyes, and fell silent. This was not a happy tale.

"Let's just say that she was a woman I could never have," he said at last. "And my decision to leave England and go to school in this country was a result of that. I finally understood why my mother went away from everything she knew when you and she separated. I couldn't continue to live there anymore, where I could never know when I might hear about her, or worse, turn a corner on the street and see her. It was killing me to stay, and if I had held responsibilities that made me feel I couldn't leave, I think it would, in a very short time, have left me a wreck, unfit for those responsibilities. So I understood, a little, why you couldn't simply live in the same house with mother for our sakes, and that made it easier to let go of the bitterness about it."

Rhett nodded slowly. "I understand," he said. "And I'm sorry about your lady, the one you love. It's a sad thing, to care so much for a lady and have her not return your feelings."

"And so what are you going to do about it?" Wade asked, looking up and giving Rhett a quick smile.

"What?" Rhett asked, his jaw dropping.

Wade grinned at him. "The beautiful lady that doesn't return_ your_ feelings, of course," he taunted. "I mean, if even Ella could see that there's – how did she put it -" he picked up Ella's letter and quoted,"' - something about the way they look at each other,' then it must be pretty obvious. So what are you going to do about it?"

It was obvious that he had no intention of discussing his love affair further so Rhett decided, after a moment's hesitation, to drop the subject.

Rhett grimaced. "I'm not going to talk about courting Scarlett with you. You're her _son_; that's just too... peculiar."

Wade laughed. "I can't disagree with you there. My only advice is that you should not put it off. You never know when something will happen to make it impossible, so grab life – and love – by the horns and don't let go."

"That sounds like worthwhile advice to me," Rhett agreed. "So why don't we quit talking and eat our breakfasts? Your mother is coming to Atlanta to have dinner with me this evening, and I have some arrangements to make!"

* * *

**This chapter is short and awfully fluffy, I know, but it's fluff with a purpose. It gives us some of Wade's background, reassures us of Ella's happiness, tells us how the wedding guests got to and from Tara to the hotel, and lets us know that Rodney arrived in Atlanta safe and well, though probably also angry and humiliated. so now, it's Saturday, August 11, 1883, and we're ready for the best scene: Rhett and Scarlett's dinner. **

**Hopefully, another chapter tomorrow. Please read and review: I value all the excellent comments I have gotten, even the ones that don't agree with me. Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

** Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Rhett had attended to every detail he could think of. They would have a good table at the restaurant in the Kimball House Hotel, but not what was usually thought of as the best, for Rhett did not want to be out in the open, where everyone could see them. Rhett wanted privacy, something that left them with as much of an illusion of being alone as was possible in a public place. He wanted to talk to Scarlett without being overheard by everyone in the room.

He arranged the meal, based on what he remembered to be her favorites; she had liked the spicy Cajun food of New Orléans. He remembered, and though he doubted they would have any good Cajun cooks in Atlanta, he at least managed to arrange for gumbo and jambalaya.

He arranged for flowers, and some of the new Cadbury chocolates that he thought she would enjoy. He even bought a lovely diamond-and-emerald bracelet with matching earbobs; not that he thought Scarlett could be bribed, but she had always adored both presents and shiny baubles, and he was willing to indulge any whims she had, if it would put her in a good mood... a mood to listen. At the beginning of the meal, he would offer her chilled champagne, and at the end, a nightcap of brandy, which he remembered had once been her favorite alcoholic beverage.

Rhett had no idea how much Scarlett drank any more, though he knew that it had once been more than she should. He doubted that her really heavy drinking had continued after the divorce, however; Wade and Ella were too well-adjusted to have come from a home where alcohol was regularly abused, and the twins certainly showed no signs of the tension that came from trying to live with a person who was regularly drunk or hung over.

So he suspected that she had given up drinking more than the occasional sip on social occasions. Sadly, he wondered if Scarlett's drinking had been a sign of unhappiness, and if she had been able to stop easily once she was happy again. If so, that meant that she had never, not for any period of time, been happy and comfortable in their marriage. She began drinking when she married Frank, and she continued to drink all through the years until he left her in their Peachtree Street Mansion.

The idea that she had never been happy with him, that not for even a single week or month had anything he offered been enough to make her relaxed and content, underscored the failure of their marriage as nothing else could. For a moment, Rhett wondered if he were doing the right thing – for her sake. Would she be better off if he simply left her alone?

As he seriously considered the idea for the first time, he made himself to look past his own desire to have her, trying to see what would be good for Scarlett. Certainly, she found contentment in her life as it was, and he vowed to himself that he would not take that away from her. If he found he could not make her happy, he would force himself to let her go so that she might keep the serene life she had now.

He would.

* * *

The bridal couple left Atlanta for Savannah, where they would take a ship for a month-long stay in Paris before journeying to their future home in England. Rhett was glad to see that Ella looked radiant, and her husband had a relaxed, pleasant expression, not the tight, angry look of a man whose wedding night had been a catastrophic failure. Rhett was happy for them, and even happier when he saw that Scarlett and the twins were here to see them off. Standing off to the side, he watched her as she kissed first her daughter, then her son-in-law, and stood waving on the platform as the train pulled away.

"You can't keep your lecherous eyes off her, can you?"

Rhett didn't even have to turn his head to know who spoke in such a venomous tone. "I never have been able to," he answered. "Not since the day of that first barbecue at Twelve Oaks." He turned his head to smile lazily at Ashley. "Speaking of which, Mr Wilkes, how is the family plantation nowadays? I assume that in the years since the war, you've rebuilt it into something your son will someday be proud to inherit?"

Ashley threw him an infuriated glance, then strode away without answering. '_Who knew that it was so easy to get rid of him?' _Rhett thought._ 'I should have tried barbed question years ago.'_

Dismay filled him, however, when Ashley went immediately to Scarlett's side. _As though he belonged there, _Rhett thought. He started to go and take her away – given the amount of backbone Wilkes had just shown, it would be easy enough – but then he paused.

No. That was the old way, the way filled with jealousy and secrets, and he wasn't going to play games any more. Scarlett had made a date with him, and he was sure that she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers. If she still chose to go with Ashley, that pretty much told him everything he wanted to know, didn't it?

So he leaned against a post, smoked his cheroot, and waited while Ashley spoke to her.

At first the conversation seemed amiable, if not lively. Only when Ashley took her arm and tried to lead her away did she balk. He insisted, his hand still on her arm, and she pulled away from him firmly, saying something that caused his face to flush with temper. Satisfied that she did not intend to leave him standing for the wooden-headed Mr Wilkes, Rhett tossed away his cigar and sauntered towards them. Just before he arrived at her side, Ashley turned and left; it was quite obvious that he wanted to avoid Rhett.

"What did you say to him, you terrible varmint?" Scarlett asked, and the thread of amusement in her voice told him just what he wanted to hear about her feelings – or lack of them – for Ashley.

"Why, nothing out-of-the-way," Rhett replied innocently. "I merely inquired about the current condition of the family estate. Am I to assume he _hasn't_ reclaimed it since the war? What a truly shocking discovery!"

"Rhett, you are so bad," she chided him, laughing.

"I always have been," he replied, holding out his arm for her to take. Before she slipped her arm into it, she turned to her daughters who were holding hands with Wade. "Now, you two be good for your brother," she told them, leaning down to hug each of them. "And for Prissy, on the train. Mama will be joining you at Tara in the morning."

Katie nodded solemnly. "Yes, mama," she said.

Lanie, however, tilted her head to the side as if considering. "Why can't you come tonight, Mama?"

"Because she's going to have dinner with me," Rhett said stepping forward. "Do you mind?"

Lanie regarded him with her sharp black eyes. "No, I guess that's all right," she said.

"What about you, Katie?"

Katie smiled at him. "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum," she replied. Wade led the girls away, and Scarlett turned back to Rhett.

"You've always had a way with children,' she commented. "Probably because you don't lie to them, or patronize them; so many adults do. They treat children as if they were all supposed to be alike in some dreadful way."

He smiled, and patted her hand where it rested on his. "I know. I felt that way for most of my childhood, too. Conformity was expected, and it was as though everyone else was part of the herd, the group, and I was the only one who saw the horrible truth."

"It took me many years to believe it was the truth," she said, nodding as they passed a group of black-clad ladies on the sidewalk. They were on Decatur Street now, headed east towards Wall Street. Before the war, this had been a residential area; gracious houses and tall trees had lined both sides of the wide dirt road. When it was rebuilt after the war, however the homes had given way to warehouses, and the trees, of course, had not survived the fire.

A smile flickered across Scarlett's face. They had been walking in silence for a few minutes, but Rhett showed how attuned he was to her mood by instantly saying, "What's so funny?"

"I was just wondering how much longer we can expect these buildings to continue to stand," she said, her voice full of suppressed mirth.

It took him a moment, but he eventually understood. "Did you sell them the lumber?" he asked, grinning.

"Not all of them, but most," she said, laughing. "I ruthlessly undercut everyone's prices, you remember, when I ran the sawmills before Ashley came to Atlanta to do it, but the – ahem – quality of the delivered product was sometimes not quite as specified."

"Then perhaps we should head somewhere where there are fewer buildings, or at least, where they aren't so tall or so close together. Disaster could strike at any moment," he chuckled with her.

Her laughter trailed off, but she let Rhett lead her to the small park that marked the end of the commercial area and the beginning of the new residential area. A few of the older trees had survived here, and he led her to a bench beneath a stately old elm. "Shall we sit and talk for a while?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'd like that. There have been very few people in my life with whom I've ever been able to be completely honest, Rhett. It's a marvellous feeling."

"Were you able to be honest with _him_?" Rhett asked. To her credit she didn't ask who, merely took a few moments to compose her thoughts before she answered.

"The answer to that is a little more complicated than a yes or no," she said after a moment. "If you mean, would Tony have gotten the same amusement out of that little story that you did, then no, he wouldn't. But he wouldn't have been shocked or horrified, either. I think, in an odd way, that my relationship with Tony would have been more like what you shared with – with Belle Watling. A friendship so deep that he understood everything about me, almost before I understood it myself, and accepted it completely. I had never had complete acceptance from a man before, Rhett, not even from you. There was always something about me that they wanted to change. With Frank, it was virtually everything – my God, that poor man was so horribly deluded when I talked him into marrying me. Ella and the tax money for Tara were the only good things to come out of that marriage. But even with you, there was always some way in which I was lacking.

"But he did better," Rhett said, trying to keep his voice neutral. The quick glance she gave him proved that he hadn't completely succeeded.

"As I said. He accepted me."

"Tell me about him, then," Rhett said gently. "How did you ever meet up with him again?"

"Well, when I left here, the children and I traveled. At first, that was interesting, even exciting, but after a while, I grew tired of Yankee places, Yankee faces, Yankee voices. And yet, I didn't want to go home yet. Home meant constant reminders of you – or even worse, the possibility that I might meet you. I hadn't even begun to recover enough to risk a meeting, if you know what I mean?"

"I do," he answered gravely. "At that time, I would have gone far out of my way to avoid a meeting with you as well, and for similar reasons. For the first time in my adult life, I lied to myself about those reasons, however; I told myself that I no longer loved you and wanted to allow you no chance to importune me."

She laughed. "Importune you, my foot! You haven't ever seen the day when I would come to Charleston begging you to take me back, Rhett Butler!"

"I learned that, eventually," he said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. "And I will even admit to you, my dear, that the day I really understood that you had put me behind you and never intended to seek me out again was one of the loneliest days of my entire life."

She looked startled. "I – I thought you would be happy," she said, her eyes wide. "I thought I was giving you what you wanted. You sent me that awful letter -"

"And in return, you sent me an awful letter," he said. "Though I admit, it was exquisitely polite and very properly worded. 'I believe I will not trouble you further,' indeed!"

"Well, at least it was polite!" she flared. "Your letter was horrible. You called me names, and told me I had ruined the children's lives -"

He held her hand gently.

"Did it hurt you?" he asked.

She looked at him, and he could see tears shimmering in her thick black lashes. She wanted to deny it; he saw her open her mouth to do so, and then pause and swallow hard before finally speaking. "I cried every night for weeks," she admitted huskily.

He looked at her with all the gentleness he was capable of. "Let's not do that to each other anymore, what do you say?" he asked.

She nodded immediately. "Let's not," she agreed. He squeezed her hand tenderly and let it go.

"We seem to have wandered a bit off the subject, though," he said after a moment. "I believe you were going to tell me about the charming Mr Fontaine's courtship."

"Well, actually, I don't think I had yet told you how I got to Galveston," she said. "Although you can probably predict the truth, from what I've told you."

"Let me try, then," he offered. "You finally got so tired of hearing Yankee voices around you all the time that you determined to come back home at any price. Home meaning, to the south, not to Atlanta. Or Savannah. Or Charleston. So one day, in the newspaper, you saw an advertisement for a new resort hotel that had been built on the island of Galveston, in Texas. With your usual lamentable ignorance of geography and culture, you decided that was just the place for you, far enough away to be low-risk, close enough to hear accents that sounded like home. Am I right?"

"Almost exactly," she giggled. "And you're even right about ignorance; Galveston may someday be a resort city, with big fancy hotels and luxury accommodations, but that day is not quite yet. The hotel is still being constructed; after a week of listening to saws and hammers from sunrise to sunset, I rented a little cottage on the beach, just to get away from that."

"And was that where you met Mr Fontaine again?"

"Yes. Literally on the beach, in fact. He and another man were standing not far from me, talking, and the other man was smoking a cigar. The smoke choked me and I coughed a little; Tony told the other man to put the cigar out, and he cussed Tony and stalked away. Tony apologized to me, but by that time, I had recognized him. I made a joking comment about how he could shoot him for me – Tony was probably the second or third best shot in the county, back before the war – and called him by name. He hadn't recognized me, because I was sitting in the deep shade under one of those beach umbrellas, with a scarf over my hair. When he heard me say his name, his eyes came to my face, quick as a rattlesnake striking, and I saw that my old childhood friend had become a man who was dangerous, very dangerous, indeed. In the few moments it took for him to recognize me, I knew that I was in danger, and I was – just for that teeny second – frightened."

"Ah, I see. You always did rather admire strong men, didn't you, Scarlett? It's the reason I never understood your obsession with Ashley, who would never have made you happy."

"No, but then, I was blind for so long to what Ashley is really like. In the past few years, my dealings with him have shown me, though. I've had to do everything but drag him around by the scruff of the neck to make him do the things he should for Beau; he talks as if he loves him, but he's not willing to put any effort into it, even when someone else is footing the bills. If Melly could see that, it would break her heart."

Rhett sighed, wondering what life would have been like if she had realized that twenty years ago. He didn't say it, though; recriminations were not what this night was about.

"Have you ever tasted chocolates?" he asked, in a complete change of subject.

"Chocolate? The drink?" she asked.

"No, I know you've always liked the drink. I used to bring you chocolate in bed, remember?"

She met his eyes, and did not look away for a long moment. "I remember," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Well, they've tried for a long time – without success – to make chocolate edible in other forms. They didn't succeed for a long time because when dried, chocolate becomes coarse, and very bitter. But recently, a company in England called Cadbury began making candies using a new process that removes the coarseness and bitterness. They are really excellent, and the first time I ate one, I thought of you. When Wade invited me to come here, I had the housekeeper at my house in Charleston send me a box. I have them in my room, if you'd like to try them?"

For some reason, he saw amusement in her eyes as she listened to him. "Why, Captain Butler," she purred. "Are you inviting me to your hotel room to partake of strange and exotic sweets?"

He laughed, a rueful sound, because he truly had not intended what he now realized he had implied. "And if I were, Mrs Fontaine?" he asked teasingly. "Would you be tempted?"

"Perhaps tempted... but I would have to decline, I'm afraid." She looked at him, suddenly serious. "Rhett, I have children to think of. And though I won't crawl to any of the old cats, neither will I give them any further opportunity to shame my little girls."

He nodded. "I agree. To tell the truth, I hadn't really intended to ask you to my hotel room; I just wanted to change the subject, and the chocolates seemed like a good way. Because I quite seriously believe you will love them. I believe I'll have a bellboy bring them down to the restaurant, however," he grinned wickedly at her. "Lest I be the one tempted."

He stood, and dusted the dirt of the bench off of his britches. "I believe it's time for our meal now, Mrs Fontaine," he said, offering her his arm.

She rose, and delicately placed the tips of her fingers on it. "I believe you are right, Captain Butler. I seem to have worked up an appetite."

* * *

**I realize that we didn't get to the dinner yet. But the point of dinner wasn't the food; we didn't really care what they ate, we wanted to hear what they said. In the contrary way my characters seem to have developed, they decided to talk on the nice park bench, instead. I can see their point, really. It's public enough not to be scandalous, private enough that no one could overhear them; even better than the restaurant, in some ways. The best part is that even though we got some of the serious conversation out of the way, there's more to come. Rhett still wants to know how they wound up in England, for instance. So there's still dinner to look forward to.  
**

**I think we got the tone of the conversation down, though, and some of the substance, and that will have to do for tonight. This chapter is already much longer than any other in this story, and it's after midnight, so I'm going to call it a night. Another chapter tomorrow, I hope. Please review and let me know what you think of this one; I always appreciate everything you have to say about the story.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The hotel stood tall, six stories looming in the setting sun as Rhett escorted Scarlett into the restaurant. The multitude of windows reflected the sunset colors of the sky, making it look almost as though the building were ablaze.

"You know, I tried to rent rooms at the National, down the street," she said, smiling. "You remember, the place we stayed at while they were building our house, when we were newly married? But Ella heard about the elevator here – it's the first building in Atlanta to have one, you know – and nothing would do but that we should rent a floor here. I've never much cared for this place, though. There's just something about it..."

"Are you becoming fanciful in your old age, darling?" he asked, and she laughed.

"I don't think so. Maybe it's just that it's so ugly. Who paints a brick building yellow?"

"Hannibal Kimball does, evidently," he murmured. "Next time we want to have dinner out, I'll find a different venue, I promise," he said, pushing open the door of the building to lead her inside.

The dining room was spacious, and, with Scarlett's elegant guests filling the hotel, crowded as well. Rhett had little doubt that his table had been held, however; not only did money talk, but it had taken very little time for Rhett to realize that the snobbery of the high-born English guests had done nothing to endear them to the local citizens. The generous sum Scarlett paid in gratuities to the staff might have been enough to make them grit their teeth and bear it, but no one who worked for this hotel would be at all upset if something bad happened to any or all the foreigners here. They would be perfectly happy to see a good table, generously paid for by Cap'n Butler, with his perfect manners, go empty while the English guests milled around aimlessly, waiting for an available spot.

Proven correct in his assumptions, Rhett led Scarlett to where the Maitre d' indicated, although he already knew the location of the table. Hadn't he picked it out himself, after bribing the headwaiter to bring him in when the dining room was officially closed after lunch, so he could see the layout of the room? This table, half hidden behind a tall pillar and sheltered from its neighbors by thick foliage, was as secluded and private as one could get in a public dining room.

"Would you like some champagne, my dear?" he asked, as soon as they were seated. "There's a bottle that has chilled all afternoon."

"Why, Cap'n Butler, one might almost think you were celebrating," she said, smiling. He felt the old urge to retreat, slipping into his shell with a snap, like a turtle, but he refrained. He had no doubt that the time when he could make a humorously cynical comment about their relationship would come – Scarlett was no more prone to sentimental outbursts than he was – but not yet. First he had to show her his sincerity.

So he smiled back at her. "Celebrating implies a victory of some sort," he said, as the waiter poured the sparkling liquid into elegantly fluted glasses. "Let us say, rather that I find myself very pleased with my company this evening."

Scarlett lifted her glass and sipped at the liquid appreciatively. "Mmm, this is good," she murmured. "I haven't had champagne in years; Tony always -" She stopped, looking up at Rhett with a little guilty smile.

"It's all right. You can talk about him," Rhett said, sipping the bubbly liquid, watching her over the top of the glass.

"Tony always liked champagne. He called it one of life's finer pleasures, and ordered it on every possible occasion. I rather think that was in reaction to the years right after he left Georgia. He never went into details, but I gather that he saw some very lean times, although by the time I saw him again, he had become able to support himself, at least."

"What was he doing?" Rhett asked idly.

"He was a gambler," she said. Rhett smiled, remembering what Ashley had said about Tony Fontaine being a gentleman. Rhett had been to the frontier, had earned his living gambling in the gold fields of California, and if Tony had been successful in that type of place, Rhett was willing to bet that Mr Wilkes would be more than a little surprised at what his old friend had turned into.

He voiced this thought to Scarlett, and she agreed.

"Oh, yes, Tony had become something that would not have been in the least familiar to Ashley. He was never dangerous to me, but the violent possibilities I saw in his eyes before he recognized me were very real. And there came a time when I, and even the children, became involved in that, as well."

"Oh? That sounds like an interesting story. Would you care to share?"

"Well... it's basically the story of how we came to settle in England," she said.

"That makes it even more interesting," he said. "Pray continue, Mrs Fontaine."

Before she could, the water came to take the order for their food. "I arranged for some Cajun food - gumbo and jambalaya, if you'd like – but feel free to order something else, if you'd like," Rhett told her, smiling.

"That sounds perfect," she answered. "I haven't had any spicy food for a long time. The English just look at you if you ask them to put any flavorings beyond salt and pepper in their food, and the French want to cover everything in sauces. Not that they're not good, but -" she shrugged, "- what can I say? Cajun cooking was the first really spicy food I ever had, and I still have a fondness for it!"

"Then I'm glad I arranged for it to be available," he told her. He gave the order to the waiter, then turned back to her expectantly. "And now, the story of your emigration," he prompted.

"Well... I don't know if I told you, but Tony ran the gambling casino at The Beach Hotel. I gather that the plans to make it a fancy resort hotel have been achieved now, but back then, it was just the casino and a hotel in the process of being built. Tony managed half-a-dozen blackjack tables, three craps tables, a roulette wheel... and supervised the weekly high-stakes poker tournament. The poker was put on by the hotel, but the thing Tony liked about it, was that though he was there in his official capacity, he wasn't playing for the hotel. He used his own money, and kept his winnings. And there were almost always winnings. That game was where the trouble began."

"And what trouble would that be, my dear?" Rhett asked suavely. He poured himself a bit more champagne, but she shook her head when he wordlessly offered her some.

"Trouble with cheating. There were three men – Calvin Raye, Martin Schwann, and David Nelson. All of them claimed to be former Confederate officers, although Tony doubted it..."

* * *

_"They say they were in the army, but I don't buy it , Scarlett," he told her. They were lying in bed together, their bodies warmly spooned; Tony was relaxed enough to talk to her in the aftermath of their lovemaking. _

_ "Why not?" she asked, watching as the smoke from his cigar curled lazily towards the ceiling. Scarlett was pretty relaxed. _"_Because they don't know any of the right people," he said. "They've told me of the regiments they were supposedly in; one of them was my cousin Quintin's regiment, so I knew the name of some of the men and the officers. Another was right next to us, in the trenches outside of Petersburg, the last year, we played cards with them, got shot at with them, exchanged tall tales with them. And yet, for all the place they supposedly were, we can't muster up even one mutual acquaintance? No, it's not likely. If it were just one of them, maybe, but all three? No, I just don't believe it. If they were in the war at all, it would have been as one of the raiders, or the riff-raff that always follow the armies around, looking to find easy pickings in the tail. Not as regular soldiers."_

_ "So what does it matter?" she asked, stretching sleepily beneath the light blanket that covered her. _

_ "It matters because of their reason for lying about it," he said, stroking his hand down her side, making her squirm a little as he tickled her. "They want me to see them as friends and allies; they want me to trust them. And the one thing I've learned is that a man who deliberately sets out to earn your trust doesn't deserve it. He's out to cheat you, somehow, someway. I just need to keep an eye on them until I find out what their game is."_

_ Scarlett rolled over and kissed him, taking her time about it. "I definitely think you should give them all the attention they deserve, my love," she told him. "But you're going to have to get up and go home soon, so the servants don't know you've stayed, and I feel like I need some more of your attention before you go. Do you mind?"_

_ "Oh, not at all," he assured her, his hands already beginning to touch her in the ways she loved so well. "I will be glad when next month comes, though. We will be married, and I won't have to leave you any more."_

* * *

"They were cheating at cards. At first, Tony only suspected it; they were careful, only winning just a little more than could be explained by sheer good luck. And even after he was certain it was happening, it was hard to figure out how they were doing it, because they were a lot more subtle than he would have guessed. They used different methods in different games; for instance, one week, they would use signals to tell each other when a card one of them needed was in someone else's hand. You'd be surprised at how much difference a small advantage like that makes, over time."

"I wouldn't," Rhett said, watching her. Scarlett had not, of course, related to him the details of where they were when Tony confided in her, but he understood from her tone and expression that by that time the relationship was very close.

Scarlett smiled. "No, of course you wouldn't. You probably invented some of the games they were playing!"

"True," he answered without heat. "But you might stop and consider where your husband was likely to have learned to recognize such ploys before you throw stones. There's a saying about how it takes one to know one."

Scarlett looked as if she might protest, then shrugged and laughed. "Touche'. Yes, it's probably true that Tony wasn't always as honest as he might have been in his card dealing, particularly if being honest meant going hungry..."

"Speaking of which, I believe that our food is here," Rhett said smoothly. "Shall we continue the tale after supper?"

* * *

"That was delicious," Scarlett said, setting her fork down. Rhett smiled at her. "It's good to see that you still have a healthy appetite," he said.

"So you haven't changed your mind about girls that eat like birds?" she asked, with a smile.

"No," he answered. "At the very least, it indicates someone who cares too much about the opinions of other people. At worst, it's someone who has taken the doctrine so much to heart that they couldn't eat a healthy meal if they tried."

"I don't care much for public opinion nowadays, except for not wanting to make a scandal that would hurt the girls, if they ever want to live here," Scarlett said lazily. "So I can't see myself bothering to worry about what some gossipy fools think about my appetite."

He smiled. "You always were a girl who was going to be much happier once you finally decided what you wanted, and how much you were willing to give up to get it," he said approvingly.

"True," she answered.

"So – how did your husband break up the gambling ring that was trying to cheat him?" Rhett asked.

"Well, like I said, it took him a long time to figure out what they were doing," Scarlett said. "Partly because they were cheating in so many subtle ways, and partly because they were using the waiters who served drinks at the games to pass information. Not just one or two of them, but all of them."

"Oh. Interesting," Rhett said, stroking his moustache.

"What would you think, if you found that out?" she asked, curiously.

He recognized that as a challenge, but he had played games in those kinds of waters for too long for it to be any great problem. "I'd look at their bosses, starting with the lowest, working up to the highest. Because if all the waiters are in on it, it's more than just a couple of gamblers bribing them, it's someone above them telling them: do this or else. So which boss was it?"

It turned out to be, oddly enough the rude cigar-smoking man on the beach who was helping the cheaters. Tony suspected that he was recruited early on; looking back it was obvious that he – his name was Andrew – had been angling to get into the job he was in, which made him the one who assigned the waiters to particular shifts and particular duties."

"So he was in a place to help the cheating." Rhett commented.

"Yes, and the more Tony found out, the more convinced he became that there was more to it. A leader, who was attempting to draw in a wealthy business men so that he could be fleeced. They were setting it up very carefully, but that was the basic goal. I'm not sure exactly how it would work, but the cheaters in the lower levels would make sure that the sheep – the one they wanted to fleece – advanced to the final round, and then the leader would use all of the tricks to make sure that he lost heavily. Tony thought it was personal hatred as well as greed that motivated them."

"Probably," Rhett agreed. "To a certain type of man, there's nothing so satisfying as leaving your enemy broken and helpless."

She nodded. "Well, Tony found out when it was going to be," she went on. "And he went all out to prevent it. He changed the room where the game was to be held, because they had used the mirrors to send coded information. He made sure the room they did use had no outside windows or gas lights, because they had been passing information that way. He supervised the decks of cards that they would use, and changed the table and chairs, because secret compartments had been added to the regular set. He arranged a counter-measure to every ploy, including, at the last minute, substituting his own choice for wait staff."

"So what happened?"

"When the leader, a man named Larry Fletcher, discovered what he had done, the dislike he had for his old enemy paled before his new hatred for Tony. He played anyway, played as if he still believed that he would win, but Tony was good, very good. He ended up winning everything that Larry Fletcher owned, including a ship that was currently docked in the harbor at Galveston."

Rhett shook his head. "I've never been able to understand people who gamble what they aren't willing to lose," he said. "I mean, I know it happens; I've seen it countless times, but I've never understood it at all."

Scarlett shook her head. "I never saw the pleasure of gambling at all, really. I mean, it's interesting, in a sense, but only as a – a contest. Earning a living at it involves, as my husband told me, spending a great deal of time inalcohol-fueled conversations with people you wouldn't have found interesting even if they were sober, waiting for them to make mistakes and then release you from the game so you can go home and try for a few hours of sleep. But that card game won Tony enough money that he'd never have to work again. We might not have gone to England, however, but for the fact that Larry Fletcher found out that he was wanted for murder. and reported him to the authorities."

"Unsporting, but predictable."

Scarlett nodded. "True. If Tony hadn't had friends who warned him so that we could slip aboard the ship and be gone before they could stop us, he might have ended up in prison. They might have even hung him!"

"And he took you with him?" Rhett's tone was mildly surprised.

"Well, at first he didn't want to. But I was uncertain when, or even if he would be able to return, and I was having none of that. It meant the wedding would have to be postponed indefinitely, and I didn't think that was at all a good idea. So I persuaded him to take me and the children with him."

"It would be interesting to know what method you used to persuade him," Rhett said.

Scarlett laughed. "Well, it was simple. I told him that I would be having his baby in six months, so I couldn't see waiting on the off-chance that he could get back in time to marry her before they were born."

* * *

**So, what do you think? I know some of you (especially the ones who are already having trouble with the idea of Tony) would find it difficult to believe Scarlett would be intimate with a man outside of marriage. But given how alone they both were, and how hurt she was by her former life, I think it's at least plausible. Review and let me know if you agree or disagree, and either way, thanks for reading.  
**

**Special thanks to CocoB, who sent me a message about Scarlett's relationship with Ashley that has cleared up the problem I was having seeing how to end this. I've got it figured out now, and I think it will be great! So reviews and messages really do help! Should be a new chapter tonight or in the am!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, lights, metals,

were little boats

that sail

towards those isles of yours that wait for me.

_Pablo Nerudo, If you forget me._

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Rhett said after a moment. "Because the truth of the matter is, I want to shout at you that you know better, that your behavior was immoral and wrong, and, given my own past behavior, that would be the heighth of hypocrisy. If I'm really honest, though, the only real objection I have is that _I_ could never talk you into my bed outside of marriage, and someone else did."

Scarlett laughed. "Oh, but Rhett, you never needed me the way that Tony did. We were both so very lonely, you see."

"I do see. But that doesn't exactly make me happy about it anyway, if you know what I mean?"

Scarlett covered his hand, trying to let him know she appreciated that he didn't make a fuss about what was, after all, none of his business.

"Would you care for a glass of brandy to wind up the meal?" Rhett asked, trying to move on.

Scarlett shook her head firmly. "No, that's a habit I gave up long ago," she told him. "And since I haven't had anything to drink in so long, it would be most unwise of me to overindulge now, when you still have to escort me to Aunt Pittypat's house. If I were to so much as stumble over a loose rock, the Old Guard would have it that I staggered home at three in the morning, blind drunk and singing bawdy songs at the top of my voice."

He laughed. "It's true that there are those who still feel malice towards you, I'm sure. Such as India Wilkes. Does she still live with your aunt?"

"Yes. Aunt Pittypat refuses to live alone, and India can't afford a place of her own. It's not as if she can keep me out, though; the house is half Wade's, and he told her quite firmly that she must be at least polite to me if she wants to stay there."

"Shall we go then?" He rose to his feet and helped her to stand, his movements as tender as if he were handling rare porcelain. Neither of them noticed two pairs of malevolent eyes watching as they left the restaurant; they were too involved with each other.

"He's grown into a man to be proud of, your boy has," Rhett said. "I wish I had tried harder to stay in touch when I left."

She nodded. "He is rather wonderful, isn't he?" she asked. Then she hesitated, and said, "I did ask him if he wanted to stay in touch with you, after you sent me that last letter. He thought about it overnight, and then he said no. I admit I was rather surprised; I thought he would want some contact. But I'm glad he didn't. It meant that there was nothing to draw my attention to you, and eventually I started to forget a little."

_With Tony's help,_ Rhett thought with a bitterness that dismayed him. He did not want to be an angry selfish man who grudged Scarlett the happiness she had found when he had – let's be honest – deserted her and her children. He decided to change the subject.

"Speaking of Wade, do you know the young lady who is the object of his unhappy affections."

Scarlett looked up at him in surprise. "He told you about Sally?"

"Only in the most general sense, that she is a woman he cannot have, and that he loves her."

She shook her head. "Oh, Rhett, it's the saddest thing! It quite breaks my heart for Wade."

As they moved down Decatur Road towards Peachtree Street, Rhett said, "Wade gave me no details. Are matters really so grim? In my experience, money can often buy release from – other attachments."

"I wish it were a matter of money," Scarlett said sadly. "No, it's much worse than that. Sally is the wife of one of Wade's friends. She is a good and modest girl, Rhett – and don't look at me like that! I've known her for years; she used to pay with Ella, when we first went to England. I was at her wedding!"

"So she is married?"

"Oh, yes. She and her husband were quite happy for the first few months. Until the accident. Geoffrey fell from a horse; his back was broken, and he will be crippled for the rest of his life. Wade spent a great deal of time with them, trying to help, and in the process, he got to know – really know – Sally for the first time. By the time he realized how deeply involved he was, it was too late. He loves her, and he can never have her unless his friend dies."

"And so, being an honorable man, he left her."

"Yes, after making arrangements to have another friend check in on them occasionally, and to authorize money if it should be needed." Scarlett shook her head. "It's just so awful. Wade would be a great husband to the right girl, but he never even looks at any of them – at least, not with the thought of marriage."

"I wish there were something I could do to help," he said. They walked arm and arm down the street – Peachtree, now, with it's long row of houses that had been partly or completely rebuilt since the war. Of all of them, Aunt Pitty's was the only one that looked even half-way prosperous, with the porch painted and the lawn cut and trimmed. Some of the others had obviously seen only the bare essentials of maintenance for years, most obviously the one where the porch roof sagged alarmingly.

"We got through, and even prospered," Scarlett said. "But so many of them didn't, not really. So many of them got lost, and have stayed lost, since the war."

"Why Scarlett, it's unlike you to be sentimental," he said, and she shook her head.

"It's not sentimental to see what's there," she said. They were outside Aunt Pittypat's house now, and Rhett opened the gate, which surprisingly did not squeak, and ushered her onto the neatly kept sidewalk. Shall we sit on the bench here?" she asked. "It's hidden from the house by the tree and from the street by the honeysuckle vines and wisteria bushes."

"Is India watching, do you think?" Rhett asked.

"This bench can't be seen from the front windows of the house," she answered. "But if she could see us, you can bet she would be, and probably taking notes, as well."

"Do they bother you a great deal?" Rhett asked, sitting beside her and taking her hands in his; she understood that he wasn't talking about just India.

Scarlett shrugged. "I don't care much for their opinion. But what I do and say will be held against Katie and Lanie, so I try to pick my battles with wisdom, or at least discretion. India doesn't matter enough for me to fuss with her."

Rhett grinned. "Besides, I can bet that you've noticed that nothing upsets her more than a demonstration of her inability to affect you."

Scarlett laughed, a merry sound that he hadn't heard in a long time. "Why Rhett Butler! You are still such a varmint!"

He smiled at her. "I'm glad you remember that," he said, with great sincerity. "Because if not, you would be completely surprised when I once again acted like a cad, which I always will, eventually. It's my true colors coming out."

"Oh? Are you anticipating that you're going to be doing something particularly reprehensible in the next few minutes," she asked, and though her voice was prim, he could not mistake flirtatious undertone.

She leaned her head back against the tree. Behind her, the half-full moon sent a dappled light through the branches of the old oak, illuminating her face well enough for him to see the paleness of her skin, the cat-like slant of her eyes, the redness of her lips. She watched him, her eyes amused and sure of her power, but not unkind as she waited for his next move, knowing that it would come, that he had no choice.

He thought, in a distant part of his mind, that it had been years since he wanted anything as much as he wanted to kiss her.

"Scarlett," he said. "I think it's time we were honest with each other, don't you?"

She smiled, the merest movement of her lips.

"Past time, I would rather say," she murmured.

"Then I will begin," he said quietly. "We are not children, either of us. You have seen, over the past few days, that I want you back in my life, and while I am willing to make all kinds of reasonable accommodations as far as where and how we live, before we start, I need to know if you want me in your life, too?"

"On what basis?" she asked, still watching him with those heavy-lidded eyes.

"I – uhm, I anticipate a long courtship to get us there, but I would of course want you as my wife."

"I think I like the idea of a long courtship," she responded, amused. Then her smile faded."There are many things that we need to talk about, Rhett, all the ways we hurt each other, all the things we hid away and didn't say when we were married. So I can make no promises for the future. What I can say is that I want you back in my life, too, and that I am willing to work on making that happen."

He smiled. "There are no guarantees," he agreed. "Oh, and Scarlett?"

"Yes, Rhett?"

"Just in case you were wondering, I'm about to behave like a completely unprincipled cad now."

She smiled as he moved closer. "What took you so long?" she whispered throatily.

Atlanta slept in the light of the waxing moon as Rhett walked jauntily back to his hotel. The evening had gone even better than he had expected; he felt as if everything that he wanted was within reach. Yes, he had some work to do, but given an achievable goal to strive for, Rhett had never been afraid of work. He thought of Scarlett's kisses, the way she had touched his hair and murmured his name, and a smile of anticipation grew on his face. Oh, he would be willing to do any amount of work, to have that permanently.

* * *

_ Look at him, _the follower thought, his rage almost uncontrollable. _See the way he smiles, as though he had not a care in the world, coming from the presence of a woman he has no right to. He thinks he's won. He thinks he's going to have everything, but he won't. I will not allow it!_

As they approached the place of ambush, the follower hoped that his fellow conspirator would do his part. It was likely that he would; people like Rhett Butler made enemies wherever they went, so it was easy to find someone who hated him to help with the dirty work. And if he failed in his role here and now_,_ there would be another time, another place._ Rhett Butler would not escape!_

As it turned out, the man who had followed did not need to be concerned. His partner in this nefarious enterprise performed his role well, likely because anyone with the brains of a five year old could handle it. As Rhett crossed the mouth of a narrow alley between two buildings, a sound attracted his attention, causing him to turn and peer into the dark passage. "Who's there?" he called, but the follower was already in motion, taking two quick steps and raising the sturdy cane he carried to strike before the vile man could turn.

The cane cracked down, and Rhett fell like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Moments later, the two conspirators had dragged him into the alley, where they wrapped him in a tarp they had brought, and threw him over the back of a mule they had also thoughtfully provided. Within seconds, all signs of what had occurred here were gone, a level of competence few would have expected of the two in question.

It took a bit longer to get him into the tunnel that led below the streets and into the basement of the Kimball House Hotel. Once there, his inert but not lifeless body was dropped onto a storeroom floor, then the conspirator was dismissed. The follower pulled a flask from his pocket, dumping the contents – a particularly nice Scotch – over the unconscious Captain Butler. "Man drinks like a fish. No one will question that," he muttered. Taking another flask, this one containing kerosene, from his pocket; he poured it in a circle, careful to make sure that the liquid flowed over to several of the pallets of dry goods that were stored here. One last object emerged from the pocket; a small candle stub, which he lit and carefully set down in the puddle of spilled kerosene.

Rising to his full height, the follower glanced around. The stage was set, just as he had imagined. There would be a small fire in a basement warehouse in the early morning hours. After it was put out, (because of course it would never get out of control; Atlanta had an excellent and completely modern fire department) a single body would be discovered, the drunken patron of the hotel who had somehow wandered into the basement and set the fire that killed him. Quite fitting.

Without a backward glance, the follower left through the tunnels that had brought him here. Five minutes after he had left the scene of his trap, the follower emerged from the side door of the warehouse to which those tunnels led. As he emerged onto the street, he lifted his head and looked around warily, his cane held tightly in his hand.

Many people in Atlanta would have greeted him with a smile if they had met him on the street. With a feeling of serene satisfaction, Ashley Wilkes gripped his cane, and turned towards home.

* * *

**For those of you who are interested in historical accuracy, the Kimball House Hotel in Atlanta burned to the ground on August 12, 1883, 131 years ago today. There was no loss of life, but the elevator shaft acted as a chimney spreading the fire quickly.  
**

**The poem at the top is just something I ran across whose lines remind me of the way everything seems to conspire to bring Rhett and Scarlett back together. I have to admit, even I am guilty of working towards it. But I liked the poem, and thought I would share it with you.**

**So. What do you think of Ashley as a murderer?**

**Review and let me know. I love to hear from you, even when you can't believe some of the things that I do.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

Afterwards, Scarlett could not have said what woke her. Normally, she slept well and mostly without dreams; it had been years since she was plagued with the nightmares that had caused such terrible insomnia during her marriages to Frank and Rhett. And this evening, she was tired, but in a good way, happy and looking forward to the future. So why had she wakened suddenly, with a terrible feeling of anxiety? It reminded her of the way she had felt in those horrible days at Tara after the war, as if she were being stalked by invisible but vicious animals who could strike at any time, leaving her with no way to defend herself or the people she loved.

At first, she tried to ignore the feeling, and just go back to sleep. Everything was fine, she told herself. Better than fine. Everything was as close to perfect as it could be.

So why was she lying in her bed, shivering in fear, at – she glanced at the clock – four-fifteen in the morning?

Eventually, compelled by feelings she couldn't understand, she threw back the covers and rose to her feet. Pulling on her wrapper, she walked to the window and stood for a long time, watching the moonlight pool in the garden below. Everything looked odd in the moonlight, eerie, and there were shadows everywhere... but she was not a child, to be frightened by shadows. Seeing that everything was fine should have lessened the feeling of fear that had caused her to awaken, but it did not; instead, the feeling intensified even further, until she thought she might pass out. She leaned against the windowsill, horrified at what was happening, wondering if she was ill, or going insane... and then, suddenly, the feeling left her, and she was fine. Perfectly fine. Her breathing calmed, her pulse slowed, and the trembling stopped.

But she stood at the window for a long time, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

Rhett groaned; at first he was aware only of the pain in his head, which felt as if someone had taken a hammer to it and was pounding to the rhythm of his pulse. _Hangover,_ he thought blearily. _Must have been a hell of a party; I haven't felt this bad in years..._

Then his memory returned, and he rolled over. There hadn't been a party. He had been headed back to the hotel after his evening with Scarlett when... something had happened. What was it? He tried to sit up, then collapsed when the pain intensified in his poor head. He was lying on the ground, not in his bed. He looked around, moving his head only very carefully.

There were shelves, filled with various items. A ceiling made of bare wood, with cobwebs around the rafters. Had he fallen? Where was he, and how had he come to be here? Lifting his head, this time slower and more cautiously, he saw the candle just guttering in its pool of wax... recognizing the smell and seeing the oily liquid the candle sat in, his eyes widened; regardless of the pain in his head he leaped for the candle, but it was too late. His movement caused the small fire to flicker, and the pool of kerosene lit with a great whoosh of flames, which spread greedily across the floor to the pallets of dry goods that had been dampened with kerosene.

* * *

Wade stumbled a little, and Beau caught his arm, laughing. "Whoa, there cousin!" he laughed, and Wade smiled dizzily back at him. "Need to be careful. Can't have you falling down in the street. The old ladies sure won't care for that."

"No," Wade agreed. "But it'd be worse for you. I'm leaving in a few days; you live here!"

For some reason, this struck Beau as terribly funny. Probably had something to do with the amount of wine he had imbibed tonight, Wade thought with a smile, watching as the other boy laughed without inhibitions. Beau was not falling down drunk, by any means, but he was relaxed and happy, and Wade suspected that those were rare conditions for his quiet, serious cousin.

"I'm glad you've come back," Beau told him, seeming able to read his thoughts. "I missed you after you left. There wasn't anyone I could really talk to."

"What about your dad?" Wade asked, surprised. He'd always thought that Beau and Ashley were close.

Beau looked down. "No," he said, his voice low. "My dad... he's not like people think he is. He and I aren't very close..."

Wade looked at his cousin sharply. Was it just the wine, or did his cousin have something he wanted to confide?

"I'm worried," Beau said after a minute. "My dad is...he really spends a lot of time thinking about your mom. I think – I think that he wants to marry her."

"Oh." Wade looked at his cousin. "Well, you know that's not going to happen, don't you? If my mom marries anyone – and she might not – but if it's anyone at all, it will be Uncle Rhett."

"I know that," Beau said uncomfortably. "I just don't think my dad knows it. I worry about what will happen when he finds out."

"You mean, he might yell at my mom? Or start a fight with Uncle Rhett? Hate to say it, but I think either of them could handle him, Beau."

"Yeah, but my dad... he doesn't yell. Or fight. He-" They had just turned the corner to the street which ran beside the hotel, and Beau stopped dead, his eyes widening. "What's that?" he gasped, pointing.

Smoke was billowing out of one of the low windows that lined the building just below street level. Ornate grill work surrounded the dug out areas around each window, and from one of these, smoke was pouring in a steady stream. "Something's on fire," Wade said, urgently. "Beau, I'm going to run for the fire department. It's only about three blocks down. You go get the desk clerk – this time of night he's probably dozing – and have him ring the fire bell. We need to get those people out of the hotel!"

"But it's probably just a small fire –" Beau said. "Shouldn't we – I don't know, try to put it out, or something?"

"We can do that, but first, we need to alert the desk clerk, and get the fire department here," Wade said firmly. "Now go!" He gave his cousin a little push, and the two young men took off in opposite directions, at a dead run.

It had taken Wade longer than he liked to convince the firemen to believe his story and accept that he wasn't playing some sort of prank on them. Once he had them hitching the horses to the fire truck, he headed back to the hotel at a run. He could smell smoke, and by the time he rounded the corner, his dread had risen alarmingly. If he could smell the smoke, matters had gotten a lot worse, very quickly! Once he could see the hotel, his found his worst fears confirmed; smoke was pouring out of windows on several floors, and he could see flames at the basement windows.

He entered the lobby at a dead employees were milling about; he recognized them as the servants who lived on site. "We need rope," he told the most competent-looking of them. "Lots of it. Is there any here?"

"Well, yassuh, Mist' Wade. We has some light-weight rope we use fer li'l thin's round the dinin' room 'n' the kitchen -"

"Get it," Wade snapped.

Once he had it, Wade rapidly went to every floor, tying lengths of rope at the stairway door and unrolling it to the end of the long corridors where he secured the other end. Awakened by the still-ringing fire bell, alarmed by the smoke, guests were beginning to mill outside their rooms in pajamas and robes. "Follow the rope!" he yelled as he passed them. "The rope will take you to the stairs!"

"But what about the elevator?" one of the guests asked, in a quavering voice.

"Don't be a damn fool!" Wade told him; this was no time for diplomacy. "The motor of the elevator is in the basement where the fire started. When it overheats, that elevator will stop. Would you care to be in the car, trapped between floors, while a fire destroys the hotel?"

The man shook his head, his face suddenly pale. Wade gave him a little push. "Then follow the rope to the stairs.!"

Once he had the ropes in place, he began at the top floor, knocking on every door, rousing as many occupants as he could, telling all of them about the rope that would lead them to the stairway. Many of them, newly aroused from sleep, did not want to emerge in their robes and slippers, but by a combination of coaxing and bullying, he was able to get the guests moving in the right direction far more quickly than he had anticipated, and the ropes meant that he didn't have to linger once he had gotten the process started. Even the English guests gave him less trouble than he thought they would; they knew him, after all, and they could smell the smoke as well as anyone else. He overheard a few remarks about how they never should have come to this primitive place, and spared a moment to hope that this would speed them on their way home. Even Rodney, when Wade passed him in the hall, seemed more subdued than usual.

When he was satisfied that he had all the guests moving, he returned to the lobby. The employees had organized themselves, and with the help of the ropes, were assisting guests to leave through a side door. The reasons for this rapidly became clear; the whole north side of the lobby was in flames, including the elevator shaft, which was obviously acting as a chimney. Returning to the side door, Wade assisted until all the guests seemed to be out. By now, the fire truck was there, pumping jets of water onto the fire, but it was obvious that the hotel was going to sustain major structural damage, even if they succeeded preventing a complete collapse.

Once the guests were out, Wade looked around until he located the man who had found the rope for him. "What happened to Beau?" he asked abruptly.

"S'cuse me, suh?"

"Beau. My cousin. The boy I sent to warn you about the fire! Where is he?"

"He – uh – once he wahned us, he went to de basemen', ta see if'n he could put de fiah out. Ah didn' see him numore aftah that, suh."

Just then, the front portion of the hotel collapsed in a flurry of sparks. "Well, there's no way to get into the basement now," Wade muttered. He had a very bad feeling about his cousin.

"Naw suh. No way, 'cept maybe the tunnels -"

"Tunnels? What tunnels?"

"Why, dey be tunnels tween de basements ob mos' ob de buildin's in dis paht ob town town, mist' Wade, suh. Dey lead to lots ob de warehouses 'n' sech, ta move stuff in 'n' out from de trains."

"Where do you get into them? Show me!"

* * *

**So, we know that Rhett wasn't dead before the fire started, and Beau headed to the basement to find him. Do you think they made it out before the building collapsed?  
**

**Also, what do you think about Scarlett having a premonition that something bad was going to happen? The time she awoke is based on what I read in the newspaper article of the day, which said that the first reports of the fire came in just after four am.**

**This is really my first attempt at an action/adventure chapter. So review and let me know what you think.**


	17. Chapter 17

The tunnels were cool and dim. Wade had no compunction about gathering several of the small tin lanterns that were used to light the tunnels; fortunately, Jamie, as the handyman who accompanied him was called, knew where they were kept. "Dey usta kep'm lit lots mo'," he told Wade. "Back right aftuh da wah was ovah. Der wuz lotsa folks did'n' wan de Yankees knowin' wut dey had, 'n' where it went. One ob dese tunnels useta go to dat place where der be fancy guls, too. Sum mens wanted dat quiet. But now, dey only lights 'em when deys workin' in here."

"So do you know how to get to the hotel?" Wade asked. The smoke was not as heavy as he thought it might be, giving him hope that if Beau had found these tunnels, he might still be alive. The tunnel was an uncomfortable place, though, dank and cool, with small puddles of waters reflecting their light back at them, and the sound of small scurrying animals echoing from just beyond the reach of their light.

"Yassuh, Ah does. It's not all dat ha'd, it jes go in a line, wit' l'il side tunnels to de warehouses. Fum where we cum in, Ah figgers it's t'ree tunnels down, so we jes gots to keep count."

Jamie went ahead with the lantern, and Wade followed him down the tunnel. When they came to the first side tunnel, he stopped. "How long is this?" he asked Jamie, who shrugged.

"Dat one goes unduh de trolley tracks, winds up goin to de National Hotel, so I reckon – a hunnerd 'n' fifty yahds." Wade nodded.

"If we don't find anything up ahead, I want to search these on the way back," he told Jamie. "He might not have come out the same way we came in."

"Yassuh, dat's true," Jamie agreed.

They moved faster now. Wade could smell the smoke, sharper now, but still not as bad as he would have thought. He said as much, and was surprised when Jamie answered.

"Yassuh, yous right bout dat. Ah'd thought dere'd be lot mo' smoke. Mebbe the elevator shaft worked lak a chimbly, ya think? Sucked the air up out ub dese tunnels, straight up to de top floor. Dat cud be why it done sprad so fas', don't ya think?"

"I absolutely think you could be right," Wade said. "And that would explain why that side of the building burned up fastest. Because the fire would be sucked up with the air."

"Yassuh, reckon you be right 'bout dat," Jamie said.

They turned off at the tunnel that headed towards the hotel. "How did these tunnels come to be built, do you know, Jamie?"

"Well, what Ah hear tole iz, it wuz da lady what run da fancy guls. Jes aftuh de wah, when all dis buildin goin' on, she want a way to get booze in, 'thout payin' no tax, cuz da Yankee gov'ment dey had den jacked de taxes up on ever'thin'. So she got the gent what owned paht of her house, an' he talked the othuh gents into it. Made 'em think they'd make money off'n da deal, Ah 'spects."

"I expect he did." Wade said. Now that he thought of it, he was completely unsurprised to hear that Rhett Butler had a hand in it.

The smoky smell was much heavier now, and Wade's eyes began to burn. Fortunately, it was only a few dozen feet until they came to the end of the tunnel, and strong evidence of the fire. The wall that had been the end of the tunnel was partly collapsed, a smoldering beam lying atop the wreckage of bricks and wood. "I suppose that means there's no hope, then," Wade said, feeling a heaviness in his chest that owed nothing to the heavy smoke. "Even if we could get any further, there would be no way that Beau could have survived the fire..."

"Wait jes a minute, Mist' Wade," Jamie said, looking sharply at him.

"What is there to wait for" Wade asked.

"Ah was raised up in da country, Mist' Wade. Man what owned mama 'n' me wa'nt much better'n po'white, hisself. Wuz many a day, if Ah did'n' hunt, we did'n' eat. So Ah learned to read sign real good, Mist' Wade, 'n' the sign Ah read heah says someone – maybe two someone's – has been heah since dis heah wall fell."

That caught Wade's attenyion in a hurry. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Look." Jamie picked up a long stick and pointed. "See, they's footprints heah."

"Well, it's not like the tunnel is abandoned."

"Naw, suh, but dese prints is on de ash, not under it."

"So that means..."

"Yassuh. Dat means someone done walked heah since dis wall fell. Least one, mebbe two. Cuz see," he pointed delicately with the stick. "See how da ashes iz all scuffed heah? If'n Ah had to guess, I'd say someone wuz hit by da fallin trash, knocked plumb down, 'n' someone else picked 'im up 'n' carried 'im out."

"So the someone would have gone one way or the other down the main tunnel?"

"Well, no suh." Jamie said, his eyes lowered.

"What do you mean, no? He would have had to go through the tunnel, wouldn't he?"

"Oh, yessuh. Ah din't mean he din't go out through da tunnel. Ah jes meant, he din't' go out the way we came in. Ah'd a seen his tracks, else. He went out da othuh way."

"Oh, I see what you mean. So what's down that way?"

"Only one place lef down theah," Jamie said. "Tunnel curves a l'il bit, comes out 'n the basement ub wha' used to be da cathouse, wheah dem bad guls worked. It a warehouse now."

Wade nodded, feeling the irony of it. After having heard about it for years and years, he was finally going to go into the one place in Atlanta that he thought he'd never enter: the building that had once housed Belle Watling's Girl of the Period Saloon.

* * *

Beau lay as if dead. At least he was breathing, Rhett thought as he bent over him, trying to assess the level of his injuries. In the light of a single candle, all he had been able to find, it was difficult to tell. The burning beam that had fallen seemed to have struck Beau only a glancing blow, and there were no obviously broken bones. Calling on the field assessment ability he hadn't exercised since the war and his brief stint in the army, Rhett thought there was a good chance for the boy to recover. _If_, that is, the blow to the head hadn't been too severe, and _if_ the burn that had marked the side of his face was tended to promptly so it didn't fester.

The first thing, Rhett couldn't do anything about. Sometimes, people simply died of head injuries, and no medicine or treatment Rhett knew anything about affected the outcome one way or the other. The burn, however, was different; the sooner it was treated the better, and it was Rhett's responsibility to get that treatment for Beau.

Just one small obstacle stood between him and his goal of getting a doctor for Beau. Someone had tried to kill him tonight, and he didn't know who, or why. So how could he leave, even to get help for Beau, without knowing from whom he could expect danger?

Well, he had to, that was all. Because Beau was no longer just Melly's son, and Wade's cousin and friend. Tonight, he had become a man who saved Rhett Butler's life.

* * *

Scarlett stood in the cold light of dawn, staring out at the smoking ruins that only hours earlier had been an elegant, modern hotel. The manager and part-owner of said hotel stood beside her. Mr Peck showed signs of having risen and dressed quickly, but Scarlett knew herself to be impeccably groomed. After all, she had already been up and dressed when the maid came to tell her of the dreadful events of the night. It gave her an edge over the small man who stood beside her, unconsciously wringing his hat in his trembling hands as he stared at a scene that meant almost certain bankruptcy for him.

"Mr Peck," Scarlett said, her voice low, almost soothing. "I realize that this is a difficult time for you. It is in difficult times that we most need the aid of our friends, don't you think?"

Mr Peck nodded dumbly. He wasn't sure who Scarlett was, only that she was a former resident of Atlanta, rumored to be wealthy and well-connected. Perhaps she really could help him.

"My son, who I understand helped to evacuate your hotel, preventing perhaps dozens of deaths, has disappeared. I need your help to find him, Mr Peck. While it has been established that he was alive after the evacuation was complete, he has since disappeared, not a normal response to a disaster of this magnitude. Also missing are his cousin, Beau, and a friend of the family, Captain Rhett Butler. I need you to find them for me, Mr Peck. If you are successful, you can count on my friendship in the – difficult times – that lie ahead of you. If not, well -" Scarlett gave a graceful little shrug. "I think you'll find life without friends to be very lonely, Mr Peck. Somewhat akin to being thrown to the wolves." She looked at him with her clear green eyes. "Do we understand each other, sir?"

The inoffensive little man nodded, still without speaking.

"Good. Then go, Mr Peck, and make inquiries for me among you servants." She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the small crowd of servants that stood off to one side. _Great Balls of Fire! s_he thought, her hands clenched into fists so tight that her nails left red marks in her palms. _He's nervous and timid and well-meaning, and I can't think of any worse combination of traits in a man who I need to do what I sent him to do. But the police won't let me talk to the servants until they're done with them – I've already tried. So it's better to have poor help, than no help at all, when Wade, or Rhett, or Beau, or all three, might be hurt and needing help!_

* * *

**Well, Rhett and Beau are alive, although it looks like Beau is hurt. Rhett is going to have to go looking for help for him, without knowing who ambushed him and attempted to kill him. If you were looking for help for an injured boy, where would you go, do you think? To his family? In this case, that might not be such a good idea... but maybe Wade and Jamie will find them first.  
**

**Review, and let me know what you think. I'm especially interested in anyone's thoughts on how Ashley should be handled, so if you have any thoughts on that, be sure to include them. I love to hear from you! Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

Rhett looked around the dimly lit room. It was unlike him to dither like this; ordinarily, he was a decisive man, and danger lured, rather than discouraged, him. But the danger to Beau was a different matter, and he couldn't decide whether it would be better to leave him here while he went to fetch help, or risk taking him along. If he left him, it would be in complete darkness; what if Beau woke and was disoriented. He could wander off, or hurt himself.

Before Rhett could make up his mind, he saw the light approaching the door. His first thought was to hide Beau, but there was nowhere to put him, and to be honest, Rhett found it difficult to lift the kid. He had managed to carry him in here, but Beau was over six foot tall now, and though his build was slender, he probably weighed at least one seventy-five. Maybe more. Rhett had a brief, irrelevant memory of the first time he had seen him, a red-faced, squalling infant, only hours old. Giving up the useless idea of moving him quickly, Rhett blew out the candle, picked up a two-by-four and moved into position by the door. _I'll do the best I can for your boy, Miss Melly, _he thought, raising the board over his head and preparing to wallop whoever came through the door.

* * *

Wade and Jamie paused outside the door. "See, de wood done warp from de damp," Jamie said in a low voice. "Dats cuz dey built f'om green wood... Ah should be able ta jes kick it open, if ya c'n hole de lantern fer a second?"

Wade wondered briefly if the wood had come from his mother's mills. _I'll have to remember to thank her for that, _he thought, a brief smile curving his lips. "Do you think someone's in there?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yessuh Ah duz. Deah wuz light 'round the edge ub de doah when we fust gots heah, Mist' Wade. It be gone now, but it wuz-" a voice from the other side of the door interrupted him.

"Wade! Is that Wade Hamilton?"

"Uncle Rhett? What are you doing here?" Wade asked.

"It's a long story," Rhett said, pulling at the door until it moved, scraping the gravel at the bottom as it did. "But we don't have time for that now. Beau is with me, and he's hurt."

Wade slipped into the warehouse as soon as the door was wide enough. "How bad?" he asked, hurrying to kneel by the ominously still form of his cousin.

"I don't know," Rhett said. "The beam fell just as we were leaving the hotel basement, crushing the wall and hitting Beau in the head. I don't think it caught him more than a glancing blow, but it knocked him out cold and left a burn on the side of his face."

"It don' look like no bonz iz broken," Jamie said, lifting the lantern to shed a good light and running his educated eyes over the boy's form. "And dat bu'n prolly ain't to bad, if'n we gets it clean soon. Might scah some, though. Wo'se thin' iz de haid, 'n' no way t'tell bout dat til he wakes up. Bes' we take him out a dese damp basements, gets him wahm 'n' dry, 'n clean de bu'n. Den we'll see."

"That's about what I was thinking," Rhett agreed. "I just stopped here to make sure he didn't have any injuries that I was making worse by manhandling him. Now that you two are here, we should be able to rig something better."

"Yassuh," Jamie agreed. Taking the lantern, he turned towards a pile of odds and ends in the corner. With a murmur of satisfaction, he returned with a tarp and a pair of long two-by-fours. "We kin make a stretcher," he said. "Be lots easier ta carry him up de staps wid one ob doze."

Rhett moved to help him. He had seen the crude stretchers made in the army, and knew how to do it.

"I think there's something I ought to tell you before we try to get out of here," he said.

"What's that, Uncle Rhett?"

"The reason why I was in the basement to begin with," Rhett said. He smiled over his shoulder at Wade, feeling a little giddy with relief now that help was here.

"Why _were_ you there?" Wade asked curiously from where he still knelt beside Beau.

"Well, it wasn't exactly my idea," Rhett said. "I've gotten to a time in my life when I prefer a comfortable bed to a damp, hard basement floor. No, someone hit me over the head and put me there, and it was a deliberate attempt at murder. They left a candle stub burning in the middle of a pool of kerosene; I woke up in time to see it, but not in time to stop it."

"You mean, burning the hotel down was arson?" Wade said, his eyes wide.

"Well, they might not have intended to burn the hotel down," Rhett said. "It was a small fire, and they might have thought it would be contained. But they jammed the door of the room I was in, from the outside, and if Beau hadn't come along, I'd have died there for sure. And that _was_ intentional."

"So you think someone was trying to kill you, and burned the hotel down by accident?"

"Yes, that pretty much covers it," Rhett said. "Are you finished with that side, uh - I'm afraid I don't know your name?"

"I'se Jamie, suh," the handyman said, with a quick smile.

"He works at the hotel," Wade said quickly. "He helped me find you, Uncle Rhett."

"Well, under the circumstances, I greatly appreciate it. I was worried about what to do for Beau, and having a couple of extra people to do the lifting will be much better than me trying to carry him myself. Are you finished there, Jamie? The sooner we get Beau out of here, the better?"

"Yassuh, I'se done."

They moved the stretcher beside Beau and began the process of transferring him on to it.

"Now," Wade said, once that was done. "Have you given any thought about where we should go?"

* * *

Scarlett forced herself to stay calm, even though the effort made her clench her teeth until her jaw ached. Finally, when it seemed that hours had passed (though the watch pinned to her bodice said it had been twenty-three minutes), she saw Mr Peck threading his way through the crowded confusion of people and debris that blocked the street in front of the ruins of the hotel. Piles of brick and boards that had been first wrenched out of place, then discarded, by the firemen in their efforts to get water to the base of the fire, littered the street; the building itself, reduced to the crumbling remnants of the brick walls, smoldered somberly in the background.

"Mrs Fontaine," Mr Peck said breathlessly. "The news is not all good, but it does allow some reason to hope. Your son, young Mr Hamilton, definitely came out of the hotel after the evacuation. Several people saw him, including the kitchen maid, Jenny, who heard him making inquiries about his young cousin, the one who sounded the alarm about the fire. He was speaking to the head handyman, Jamie Johnson, who told him that no one had seen Beau emerge from the basement, where he had gone to see if he could put out the fire himself. Jamie mentioned to him that the only access to the basement now would be through the tunnels that run between several of the hotels and warehouses and the train depot."

"Tunnels? I didn't know there were tunnels?" Scarlet said sharply.

"Well, um – yes, there are tunnels. They aren't well-known – private, you understand..." he stuttered, his eyes dropping away from her piercing gaze. "Anyway, it is thought that Mr Hamilton might have decided to try to get access to the basement through the tunnels."

_Smuggling, _Scarlett thought coldly. _Well, it's none of my business, except that Wade is down there. And possibly Beau. And where on earth is Rhett? I refuse to believe that he didn't get out of the fire; burning up in his bed is entirely too mundane an ending for Rhett Butler! _Refusing to give in to the increasing worry that gnawed at her, she turned to Mr Peck. "I want someone to keep watch on the buildings that have a tunnel entrance," she said. "A maid will do, since they will not be required to enter the tunnels. I also want to put together a small team of men to search the tunnels themselves."

"But surely, Mrs Fontaine, your son will come out on his own. There's no reason to believe that he was injured -"

"No, Mr Peck, but he went in search of his cousin, who may be injured. Time may be of the essence in saving him, sir." With the last vestiges of her tattered patience, Scarlett kept her voice calm and reasonable. "The one small ray of light for you in this grim situation, Mr Peck, is that so far, there have been no fatalities, and only minor injuries. The public seems to believe at this point that this is the result of prudent planning on your part. It would be a shame for them to discover that someone had died or been seriously injured because you were reluctant to take steps to save him."

"You're right; of course, you're right. I'll begin gathering the men as soon as I have instructed the maids."

Scarlett closed her eyes and prayed for patience. God preserve her from weak, ineffectual men.

* * *

It took longer than Rhett liked to get help for Beau. The head of the staircase was blocked by a closed door, and the fit of the door and the sturdiness of the lock made it much more of an obstacle than the door leading to the tunnels. Jamie found a thin piece of pipe that would suffice to force the lock, but it took a long time, because the stairs fell off sharply, and it was difficult to get the leverage he needed. Finally, the lock gave with a great crack of splintering wood, and they emerged into a dusty warehouse.

Matters should have proceeded much faster from there, and would have, except that whoever owned this blasted warehouse apparently had no concept of order or organization. Piles of materials lay every where, shelves had been built wherever anyone happened to have a need for them; the windows were boarded up, and there was no sign of where the door was. Not until he saw the remnants of the staircase leading up to the second floor was he able to orient himself and figure out where the front door must be.

It was there, when they finally got around the haphazard pile of old tarps and lumber scraps. They emerged into the light of early morning and stood on the street, blinking.

"Mist Wade, suh?"

A soft, feminine voice spoke his name; Wade turned quickly, hoping this was not some new threat, to find a small, light-skinned Negro girl standing hesitantly next to him. He recognized her as a maid from the hotel, one of those who had been groped by Cousin Rodney.

"What is it, Jessie?" he asked.

"Well, um, suh, yo' mama be lookin' fo' you. She set me heah to tell her if'n ya came out of d'buildin's wid de tunnels. Ah'm s'posed ta go back 'n' tell her, if'n ya do."

"Scarlett!" Rhett grasped the girl by the arm. "Do you know where she is?"

"Why, yassuh. She at de hotel, wha's left ob it."

"Then we need you to run get her. Quick, mind you. Tell her to bring a buggy; Mister Beau is hurt." Rhett handed the wide-eyed girl a nickel. "They'll be another if you bring her back here within five minutes," he told her, when her eyes widened.

"Yassuh!" she agreed; turning, she began to run.

It took less than five minutes. Apparently, Scarlett had a buggy with her, having anticipated that it might be needed. It took her only a few moments to pull it around the corner and come up beside them. The maid was not with her.

"I am so relieved to see you," she told her son, "And Beau. When I heard that he had gone down into the basement, and no one had seen him come out – well, I was worried, that's all." She looked at Rhett and smiled; their gaze lingered on each other for a long moment, but Wade didn't seem to notice.

" Well, I'm all right, but Beau is not. We need to get him back to Aunt Pittypat's, Mama, and call the doctor for him. He hasn't woke up, and I'm really worried about him!"

"All right, darling, can you lift him up here?" she asked, her eyes going to her nephew. "He does look awfully pale. What happened to him?"

Scarlett moved aside so that Wade and Jamie could carefully lift Beau into the back seat of the double buggy. Rhett helped her down, then climbed up to help the two younger men to position Beau. "I think that will do," Rhett said. Wade, can you climb up and ride with him? And Jamie, can you ride on the steps and hold on to the side – It's only a few blocks, and we'll need help getting him in when we get to the house."

"Yassuh, Ah kin do dat," he agreed. Rhett helped Scarlett into the buggy, then climbed in himself and picked up the reins.

Dr. Meade was very old now, but his hands, as he examined Beau were quite steady, and his eyes as he looked at Wade were kind. He had never liked Scarlett, thought her a 'fast piece' and sympathized with her children, but he would have walked across miles of desert to help Beau. Melly had been his idea of a perfect lady, and nothing was too good for her son.

"Well, I cleaned the burn, and put a salve on it before I bandaged it," he told those waiting in the parlor. "With a bit of luck, it will heal cleanly, and with only a small scar. If it festers, however, it could still become serious, so keep it clean and dry and bandaged for at least a week. Change the bandage daily, and put more salve on the burn each time you change it ."

"Will he wake up?" Wade asked urgently, skipping to what they all wanted to know.

Dr. Meade's eyes studied the three carefully. "I don't know, and that's a fact. It's in God's hands now, and nothing to do but wait and see." Rhett had his arm around Scarlett, the old doctor saw. He was surprised, yet not shocked, to see it. He had never liked either of them, but any fool could see that they belonged together.

"I'll come by later this afternoon, if you like?" he offered. "Unless you'd rather get Dr. Radnick? Suppose he'll be done with those fools over at the National by then."

"No," Scarlett said, giving the old man her sweetest smile. "If you feel up to it, Dr. Meade, we'd greatly appreciate if you'd some back this afternoon."

Wade walked the doctor to the door. While he was gone, Scarlett turned to Rhett. "Now tell me everything," she said.

* * *

**Well, they're out of the tunnels, so things are looking up! Poor Beau hasn't woke up yet, though, and it looks like his face may be scarred. Also, no one knows yet who tried to kill Rhett (except us, of course), so there is still danger for him. Hopefully, he'll figure it out before long...**

**I'd love to see reviews, letting me know what you think. We're getting close to the end now, so I hope you'll keep reading to see how it turns out.**


	19. Chapter 19

"Someone tried to kill me," Rhett said, meeting Scarlett's eyes steadily. He needed to see that she believed him.

She looked confused, but not doubtful. "Tried to kill you?" she echoed. "Oh, but Rhett – Who? How?"

"I don't know the who at this point," Rhett said, taking her hand. "Last night, after I left you, I was headed back to the hotel. I heard something, a cry, I thought, in one of the alleys between the warehouses. I turned to look, and I couldn't see anything – it stays very dark there at night, even when the moon is up. I heard footsteps behind me, and then -" he shrugged. "Nothing. When I awoke, lying on the basement floor of the hotel, I had a fierce headache; it was so bad that at first, I couldn't even lift my head.  
"Let me see." She took his hat off, running her fingers through his hair. "Ooh, you do have a knot," she murmured. "Is the skin broken? Did it bleed?"

"No, it's just painful," he said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips.

"Oh, Rhett. I'm so awfully glad they didn't succeed in killing you." She looked into his eyes, and in spite of the fact that he needed to talk to her about this – she hadn't even heard the worst yet – he felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her.

Wade cleared his throat at the doorway. "Have you told her yet?" he asked, giving his mother an amused smile. She flushed, feeling as if she were a child, caught in inappropriate behavior by her father, and not an adult woman dealing with her son.

"Some of it," Rhett said, and Scarlett thought she could hear a faintly sheepish note in his voice, too.

"Some of it? What else is there?" she hurriedly asked.

"The fire," Rhett said. "Scarlett, when I woke up, and gathered myself enough to look around, I saw that someone had put a lit candle stub in a pool of kerosene, and left it beside me. As soon as I realized what it was, I tried to get it, to put it out, but I was too late. Even as I reached for it, the kerosene caught on fire. Immediately, the flames ignited a pallet of cotton sheets that I believe were probably also soaked with kerosene, and there was nothing I could do. I tried to get out, and that's when I realized the door was jammed."

"You mean, someone tried to – to burn you alive? Rhett, that's horrible!"

He took her hand again, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Yes. They may have intended for it to kill me in my sleep, but whoever did this made plans for if I woke up, too. The door was wedged shut, so that I couldn't open it; the flames had already burned through the wall between the room I was in and the next; it was smoky, and hard to breath -" Rhett shuddered. "I thought I was going to die there, Scarlett. It was a scene out of a nightmare."

She looked horrified. "I can imagine! However did you get out? You didn't have to run through the flames, did you?"

"No, that's when Beau came. It took him awhile to get the door to open – it was evidently wedged pretty tightly, and by the time he got it done, the fire had already spread so that it was between us and the stairway back to the main hotel. I've never seen a fire spread so fast; for some reason, it just seemed to explode -"

"Jamie said he thought maybe the elevator shaft worked as a chimney," Wade said. "I know this is a little off the subject, but we ought to see if we can do something for him. Not only did he help me rescue you, Uncle Rhett, but he's smart – way too smart to spend his life being a handyman at a hotel."

"We'll see if we can figure out something when we get this crisis taken care of." Scarlett assured him. "Now hurry and tell me the rest, Rhett. Aunt Pitty and India will be back soon – I'm sure they'll hear the news about Beau, and that will bring them back from that benefit breakfast for widows and orphans they went to quicker than anything."

"I'm surprised it wasn't canceled, with everything that's going on," Wade said.

Scarlett huffed. "Nothing short of the judgment day would get those old peahens to cancel their gossip-fest," she told him. "Now, Rhett -"

"Well, when we saw that we couldn't get out the way Beau came in, I remembered about the old tunnels. I knew there was an entrance to them, but it took me awhile to find it – to the best of my knowledge, I never went into the Kimball House that way in the old days. We were running out of time – like I said, this fire burned fast – and the ceiling overhead was on fire. I grabbed a piece of wood to use as a pry bar, trying to get the door open, and Beau tried to keep the burning debris off us. Then just as the door opened, the beam collapsed. It just brushed me, but I fell, and Beau on top of me. It must have hit him harder – he was knocked out cold. I grabbed him up and staggered off down the tunnels towards the old saloon. That's where we were when Wade and Jamie caught up to us."

"Uncle Rhett," Wade said. "I saw Rodney in the crowd of people when we were evacuating at the hotel, and he was quiet and meek. Not at all like himself. I thought maybe he had realized the gravity of the situation, but the more I think about it, the more I think he was acting... guilty. Do you suppose -"

Before he could finish his thought, they were interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mrs Butler – oh, I mean Mrs Fontaine!"

It was Pansy, the girl who had been Scarlett's maid back in the old days, when she and Rhett had been married. Scarlett didn't even begin to know how the girl had wound up working for India and Aunt Pittypat. "Yes?" she asked, forcing herself to smile and look relaxed. No sense in giving India something vicious to gossip about.

"You wanted to know when Mr Beau woke up? Well, he's mighty restless; seems like he's going to be waking up soon."

They all rose and trooped up the stairs to see Beau.

* * *

Pansy was right. Beau lay in his bed, moving his head and hands constantly. "Poor boy," Scarlett murmured; taking a soft cloth, she dipped it into the cool water in the basin and gently stroked it over the part of his face that was not covered by the bandage. After a moment, Beau raised his hand and feebly took hold of her wrist.

"Mama?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"No, darling, it's Aunt Scarlett," she answered.

"It hurts," he said, weakly his eyes flickering open. "My head..."

"I know, baby," she soothed. "But it will be better soon, I promise."

Before he could answer – if he was even going to – they heard footsteps coming up the steps. The door opened to reveal Ashley. Scarlett and Wade were standing on opposite sides of the bed, and Ashley did not see Rhett, as he was half-hidden by the door.

"I came right away when Dr. Meade told me he'd tried to put the fire out and been injured. How is he?" Ashley asked.

"He seems to be waking up," Scarlett said gently. "And that was the most serious problem – that he remained unconscious for so long. Dr. Meade says the burn should heal well, and hopefully won't leave a scar."

"Thank goodness," Ashley said with a sigh. He took the boy's hand, and Rhett was pleasantly surprised to see that Scarlett made no attempt to comfort him. In fact, Scarlett moved down a little to give Ashley enough room that her shoulder and arm did not brush his. "Are you awake, son?" Ashley asked, leaning over the bed so that Beau could see him.

Beau turned his face away, allowing his eyes to fall shut. He remained very still for several minutes. "Perhaps we should let him rest," Scarlett whispered. She turned to leave, and Wade also moved towards the door. Ashley was the last to turn, and as he did, he looked up and saw Rhett.

In that moment, astonishment and dismay showed on Ashley's face so clearly that a blind man could have seen them, and Rhett was far from blind. He saw rage and loathing blaze in the other man's eyes, and he wondered how he had not known that Ashley hated him enough to try to kill him.

Because he _had._ Of that, Rhett had no doubt.

* * *

After a long moment, Rhett followed Ashley downstairs. He had no proof of what he had seen in Ashley's eyes, and he was sickeningly sure that Scarlett would not believe him without positive proof. Even aside from the years she had spent pining for him, Ashley was a lifelong friend, and Rhett knew from bitter experience how loyal Scarlett could be to those she regarded as hers. He had tried fruitlessly for years to be counted among their number.

The problem Rhett foresaw, however, was more than simply bringing her the proof she would need. The problem was that if she put her childhood friendship for Ashley above the relationship they were trying to rebuild, he knew that he would not be able to bear it.

Perhaps he was wrong. Anyone who knew the facts could argue that he was illogical, that Scarlett had every reason to trust her old childhood companion until she received incontrovertible proof, that it was cruel and unreasonable in him to hold it against her if she did not believe him first. Nevertheless, he knew that finding that she didn't trust him would cause permanent harm to the fragile reconciliation that they were working on. It would, Rhett knew bitterly, be the end.

If he had thought he could beat it out of him, he would have seized the coward right then, forced him to confess what he had done. But Ashley's cowardice was of peculiar kind, and Rhett knew that the other man could withstand any number of beatings, any amount of torture, to protect the reputation and prestige that he felt was his birthright. Ashley Wilkes was a _gentleman_, and he would die to protect his own peculiar concept of that.

So what was Rhett to do?

Casting about, trying to think of any way to prove what he knew, Rhett remembered what Wade had told them just before Pansy interrupted them. Rodney! Rodney knew, he was just the type to be used by someone like Ashley, and making him confess would be child's play. Rhett only needed to get his hands on him. He didn't even anticipate needing to rough him up; a few tough words would have the other man telling everything he knew.

Aunt Pitty and India came in the front door just as Rhett arrived in the front hall. Rhett saw Ashley's eyes flicker to the ladies as he moved into the parlor. "Scarlett," he said, his voice low. He could not leave Scarlett in this house if Ashley was going to be here, so though he had no wish to take her with him to face Rodney, he thought it better than the alternative.

"Yes, Rhett?" she asked, and heard India snort behind her. India still lived in a dream-world of carefully circumscribed manners and behaviors. She thought that Scarlett should call Rhett 'Captain Butler' because he was a gentleman who was related to her neither by marriage, nor by birth. _Great Balls of Fire!_ Scarlett thought. _As though I weren't married to the man for years. I had a child with him! Going back to addressing him formally would be ridiculous._

"Come for a buggy ride with me," he said, taking her arm. "I need to talk to you away from all these people."

India snorted again, louder this time.

"India, if you have a cold, or a digestive upset, the proper thing to do would be to retire to your room, where other people would not be at risk of being affected by your illness," Scarlett said, each word as cold as if it were wrapped in ice. "At least, those of us who are lucky enough to have a room of our own to retire to would consider that proper. Don't you think, India?"

Scarlett knew very well that one of the things that India loathed about staying at her sister Honey's house is that she had to share a room with two of Honey's daughters. Her statement was therefore a thinly veiled threat. "I suppose you're right," India replied; her eyes were lowered but her fists were clenched with rage.

"I would love to go for a buggy ride with you, Captain Butler," Scarlett said, laying a delicate hand on his arm. "Wade, you'll be here to take care of Beau, won't you?"

Her son nodded. "Yes, Mama," he said, the look of amusement she had noticed earlier only deepening. _Well, _she thought,_ it's better than having him hostile, I suppose._

* * *

Once she was safely ensconced in the buggy, her parasol held delicately over her head, she smiled up at Rhett. "So where are we going in such a hurry?" she asked, looking at him through her lashes.

He smiled at her, but it felt forced and unnatural. "To see if we can find Rodney," he said through his teeth. "I find myself urgently desiring a bit of conversation with him about the events of last night."

"I agree with you," she told him. "Though I never thought I'd say it; usually, I find myself making feeble excuses to get out of conversations with him!"

He laughed, and everything seemed normal between them. He saw her looking at him speculatively several times, however, and doubted that she really believed he was fine. She simply bided her time until the moment to confront him arrived.

Rodney was not in his room at the National. Nor was he at the restaurant, or the bar, or in the lobby. The shops at street level revealed no trace of him, and Rhett felt an increasing impatience, almost a fury. Why couldn't this whole thing be easier? A man like Rodney shouldn't be able to hide from Rhett!

"Rhett," Scarlett said, taking his arm firmly in hers. "You need to come and sit down and tell me what is the matter with you." She led him to one of the ornate marble benches that sat on the lawn in front of the National.

"What's the matter with me!" he scoffed. "Someone is trying to kill me, Scarlett, and Rodney is the key to proving who. So finding him is extremely important. Who knows who might be in danger, if we don't find out what happened?"

She nodded. "All of that is perfectly true," she agreed. "But it's not all, or even most, of what's really bothering you. So tell me what is the real problem."

"Scarlett O'Hara as an insightful woman," he attempted to mock. "Who would ever have thought?"

She met his eyes squarely, not flinching or allowing his baiting to distract her. "And yet, here we are," she said simply, spreading out her hands and shrugging gracefully. "I know that something is bothering you, something other than the fact that you can't find Rodney. If we're to have any kind of future together, we have to be able to trust each other.

"Is that a threat?" he asked.

She smiled, and it was the sadness in her eyes that caused him to melt. "No. Only a statement and here's the rest of it. I won't live with a man I can't trust or who doesn't trust me. If you want the kind of ninny that would allow you to run all the business yourself while she stays in the background and simpers about how brave and smart you are, then by all means, go on and find one. It isn't me, and I'll never again pretend to any man that it is. So either tell me what's going on with you, or be prepared to have no place in my future."

She met his eyes steadily, and he sighed. "Ah, Scarlett, you have grown up, haven't you?"

She looked at him, waiting. "You're not going to like it," he warned.

"Rhett, I hardly expected you were making this fuss about something you thought was going to please me," she said, and her impatience made him smile, briefly.

Then he took a deep breath, knowing that he had no chance with Scarlett if he didn't tell her. Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her forehead gently, then looked into her eyes and said, "The person who tried to kill me, who knocked me out and locked me in a burning basement? Scarlett, it was Ashley Wilkes."

* * *

**Will Scarlett give Rhett the trust she asks for herself? Or will this prove to be another point at which a fatal misunderstanding occurs between them? They're so close! **

**Review and let me know what you think. For some reason, my reviews are not going to my review page, only to my e-mail (And if anyone has any clues about why, or how to fix it, I'd love to hear from you!). So it's taking me longer to answer than it usually does, 'cause I have to go get the addresses from my archives. But every review is read and loved, so please don't let this glitch stop you from sending them!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

Rhett watched Scarlett closely. Her lovely green eyes widened, and he saw surprise in them, but perhaps not as much as he had feared. "Oh! Oh, how could he?" she asked. "After everything I've done for him – all the years that I've taken care of him, for Melly's sake. God's nightgown! I've paid his living expenses for years, ever since he lost the mills because he was incompetent to run them. I pay Beau's tuition and room and board at the University of Georgia – not that I mind that, because Beau is a sweet boy, but it was Ashley's responsibility. And this is how he pays me back! By trying to kill the man I -" she stops abruptly, but of course, it was too late.

"Pray go on, Scarlett," Rhett said, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "The man you – what?"

Scarlett thought about snapping at him, might even have done it, but there was no malice in his eyes, no desire to hurt. In fact, his expression reminded her of the way he used to look at her long ago, when they first married and Rhett had tried to please her.

"Care about," she finished.

Rhett roared with laughter, but again, Scarlett didn't take offense. She heard the relief that he was trying to hide.

"You didn't think I would believe you, did you?" she asked.

The laughter died immediately. "I have to admit, I was worried," he told her honestly. "Mostly because it was Ashley. He's always been a sore spot between us, and yet, he's been your friend for your whole life. I couldn't really be surprised if you couldn't believe that he would deliberately set out to kill me, especially since I have no proof."

"I'm not nearly as close as I used to be to Ashley," Scarlett said. "And there are reasons for that."

Rhett sat quietly beside her, holding her hand. "I'd be interested to hear them, if you'd like to tell," he said gently.

After a moment, she sighed, and squeezed his fingers. "I suppose I should tell you," she said softly. "Because at least some of it has to do with the way I felt about him all during our marriage. But not here, where people can see us. Can we go somewhere private, Rhett."

He hesitated, glancing behind him at the hotel. "I could get a room here, but Scarlett -"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Not that private!" she protested. "Why, I wouldn't have a shred of reputation left! No, I just meant, somewhere that's not sitting right out in front of the largest hotel in Atlanta, where who knows who might be watching? Could we go to the little park we were at yesterday, and just sit on the bench while I tell you?"

"We could do that," he agreed, tenderly helping her to rise and leading her over to where the buggy was parked.

* * *

The gray eyes that watched them from the window flashed with anger. Rhett Butler had proven harder to kill than he expected, but he had not given up. Once Butler was dead, Ashley had no doubt that Scarlett would change back into the sweet, loving girl he had known all these years. It was _his_ pernicious influence that had caused his darling girl to become so coarse, so unladylike, but once he was gone, Scarlett would be free to be her natural self again, and he would be safe. She would love him, and care for him, the way a lady should.

He glanced down at his feet, to where the man who had helped him kidnap Rhett lay, all neatly trussed up and ready to be disposed of. Only this time, he would make sure he was dead, before he threw him in the river. Last night had taught him the folly of leaving anything to chance, distasteful though more direct action might be.

He had seen from Rhett's expression that he knew that Ashley had tried to kill him. That would make matters harder, for though Rhett was not a gentleman, he had received an education, and had a certain native cunning the made him hard to trap. Ashley would need to be on his toes, as he had been today, getting to the National Hotel ahead of Rhett and Scarlett. He found Rodney first, and had taken steps to make sure that Rhett was never able to speak to him. It was a good thing he had anticipated where Rhett might be going when he left Aunt Pitty's. If he had been only a few minutes later, he might have missed keeping Rodney away from Rhett, and that would have been disastrous. Rodney would have told Rhett everything to save his own skin, and Rhett would have told Scarlett. His beautiful darling would have been so angry with him! Why, she might have refused to speak to him, or to allow him to visit her.

* * *

Rhett lifted Scarlett from the buggy. Though she was perfectly capable of climbing down, he enjoyed holding her too much to deny himself. He guided her to the bench with an arm around her waist, then sat beside her and waited for the words to emerge.

"During the time after I left Atlanta, before I met Tony, I did a lot of thinking," she said. "Mostly, I was trying to understand just how I had gotten so mixed up and confused, not just about you, but about everything. I went through times when I was so angry with you, I could have taken a buggy whip to you, but mostly I tried to look past how I _felt_ about things, trying to see why they happened. A lot of the conclusions I came to weren't very flattering to either of us – and don't look at me like that, Rhett Butler. If you haven't yet seen that many of the problems of our marriage were just as much your fault as they were mine, believe me, I'll have no problem educating you!"

Rhett nodded, but the smirk on his face did not entirely fade. "I have had years to see the mistakes I made," he said. "So if I smile, it's not because I'm trying to deny the blame. It's just the idea of you, indulging in self-analysis, that amuses me."

To his surprise, she laughed. There was no real joy in the sound, for Scarlett had always found it difficult to laugh at herself, but at least it was a laugh. "I never was any good at seeing beneath the surface," she admitted "But at least I was admitting that deeper things existed. And I was able to come to some conclusions – we'll have time to talk about them later, I hope. But I could never figure out how I went so wrong with Ashley, until I met Tony again."

"Ah," Rhett said, and Scarlett heard the edge to his voice. "And the good Mr Fontaine had some insight to offer on the matter?"

"Are you jealous of him, Rhett?"

He started to deny it, then shrugged. Honesty seemed to be the watchword of the day. "Oh, hell yes," he admitted. "He seems to have managed to have with you what I spent years wanting, and never got. So certainly, I am jealous."

She nodded. "It wasn't, you know."

"Wasn't what?"

"Wasn't what we could have had. Don't get me wrong, I loved him and don't regret a minute that we spent together. But it wasn't what I could have had with you, if we had ever made it work."

Rhett squeezed her fingers. "Thank you, my dear," he said.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're welcome." After a moment, she straightened and looked at him. "The thing you have to understand about Tony is that he was the smart one in his family. Not smart about books – all the Fontaine's were book-smart, though unlike the Wilkes's, they believed in reading about practical things. Joe hoped to become a Dr like his father, after the war, though nothing came of that, and Alex studied modern farming techniques that would probably still make him the best farmer in the County, if he ever had the money to put them into action. But Tony was smart about people, and in the real world, that's just as important as knowing about things in a book."

"More," Rhett told her. "Especially if your eventual fate is to end up broke and alone in a hostile place, making your living by your wits. Then knowing people might be the only thing that keeps you alive."

"Yes... you have that in common with him," she said, smiling. "Anyway, Tony is the person who helped me see about Ashley, and he could do it so much better than you could, because he was there. He knew a lot of things that you didn't."

"Such as?"

"Tony told me that Ashley's behavior was the talk of the County for weeks before the barbecue. I know you thought I decided I wanted Ashley for no better reason than because he wasn't interested, but Rhett, that's just not true. For weeks before that barbecue, he was at Tara at least once a week to escort me to a garden party, or to invite me to tea with his sister; we went to an ice cream social, to the church bazaar, to political rallies in favor of the war. He gave every appearance of courting me, Rhett, and all the time he planned to marry Melly. Tony said he wondered why my father didn't ask him what his intentions were, there was so much talk."

"So you're saying that Ashley deliberately made you fall in love with him, even though he didn't intend to marry you."

Scarlett nodded. "That's what I think. Tony -" she hesitated, and then went on. "Tony thinks he intended to – to make me his mistress, after he was safely married to Melanie. Probably get me to marry some other man as a cover, then seduce me. He thought he could, because I loved him."

"And you had no clue that all this was going on?" Rhett asked.

"Oh, Rhett, you know how innocent they kept the unmarried girls in those days. I didn't know anything at all about men and their carnal needs. Why, I was foolish enough that I didn't even understand why some of the slave girls had babies that were so much lighter of skin than they were. That wasn't a problem at Tara – my mother would never have stood for it – but at other plantations, yes. In fact, Tony told me that was the reason that John Wilkes never remarried after his wife died. He liked to take his pleasure among the slave girls, and the more reluctant they were, the better he liked it." Scarlett shuddered. "And to think I thought he was such a gentleman, once, and I looked up to him. Even wished that Pa could have had genteel manners like his. Why Pa was worth ten of him. A hundred!"

"Why didn't your father ask Ashley his intentions?"Rhett asked curiously. "I can't imagine that he was nervous about it – I met your Pa once, and timid is the last word I would have used to describe him."

"I think that Pa realized that if he asked Ashley his intentions, he might have forced a situation where I ended up married to him," she said simply. "And Pa didn't like Ashley. He liked his father well enough, though he admitted that he didn't understand him, but he disliked Ashley, for some reason. I never got a chance to ask him why. Tony -" she hesitated, looking up at Rhett through her lashes.

"Go on," he encouraged. "I won't snap at you for talking about him."

"Well, he said that he thought that Ashley didn't treat Pa with respect, as a landowner, and an equal. It was a real touchy point with my father, because of the problems he had with a landlord when he left Ireland. So that might be why he didn't want me to marry Ashley."

"So all this time, Ashley has been playing little games with you, manipulating you to do what he wanted. No wonder we could never make anything work between us; every time we started to relax and be happy, he was there to throw a wrench into things."

"Yes," Scarlett said, and her face was very calm. Too calm. She remembered the day she had gone to Ashley about the taxes, which resulted in her going to Atlanta to offer to prostitute herself to Rhett. She remembered the day she had spoken to him about how Rhett's attitudes 'coarsened' her, which resulted in her kicking Rhett out of her bedroom. She remembered the day they had been caught hugging in the mill, which had resulted in – well, perhaps she wouldn't hold _that_ day against him, after all, she thought.

Rhett saw a bare hint of her dimples. "What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"I'm thinking that Ashley threw enough 'wrenches' into things for us," she said, "and that perhaps it is time that we returned the favor."

She smiled, and anyone who knew her would know that smile was a dangerous sign.

He met it with an equally dangerous smile of his own. What," he asked, "did you have in mind?"

* * *

**Well, it turns out Scarlett already had some reasons to distrust Ashley! This probably explains why Rhett had noticed the coldness between them, and why Ashley feels so desperate. He knows that his livelihood depends on Scarlett's good graces, and he can feel her slipping away.**

**Please review and let me know what you think. Rhett and Scarlett still have to find proof of guilt so that Ashley can be punished, although since Scarlett held the purse strings, some punishment is assured. Thanks for reading, and again, I love all reviews.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

* * *

"You'll have to stay still," Rhett told her, in a low voice. "I know that's not a specialty of yours."

He had not wanted to bring her tonight, felt that there was too much danger. She had argued passionately in favor of it, however, and he allowed her to believe she had persuaded him. In reality, it had been young Wade who convinced him to bring Scarlett along.

"She's the catalyst for all of this, Uncle Rhett," Wade said."If we leave her behind, we'll have to worry that Ashley will find some way to get to her, whereas, if we keep her with us, we can protect her."

Reluctantly, Rhett had to admit that he was right. If he left Scarlett behind, he would be distracted the entire time, wondering if she was all right, if Ashley had figured out their plan and gone for her, instead.

So Scarlett was with him, hiding in a copse of trees from which they could see the front lawn, and beyond it, the door of the National Hotel. Rhett had taken a certain amount of malicious pleasure in acquiring for her a maids uniform, telling her that none of her fancy dresses were in the least suitable for covert activities. She had eyed the rough-woven dove-gray cotton with disfavor, but had agreed after giving him a suspicious look.

"I know I need to be quiet," she replied, her voice calm. "Believe it or not, Rhett, I want to help, not hinder."

Perhaps she really did understand, or perhaps she simply did not have time to grow bored. Ashley did not wait for more than half-an-hour after sunset before he showed up, driving a double buggy.

"Rhett," Scarlett hissed. "That's him. It has to be."

"How do you know?" he asked, looking at the buggy rolling up the paved driveway. The angle of the roof hid the driver's face from their view.

"Because that's my buggy," she told him. "It's the only one in Atlanta with yellow trim on the roof and wheels. Ashley must have needed a bigger buggy, or else he wanted one that no one associated with him. Either way, he's up to no good, I think we can count on it."

"I think you're probably right, Rhett agreed. He watched as the buggy passed the front doors and drove around the corner of the building. "Let's follow him," Rhett said, and the two began making their way around the hotel, staying within the shelter if the trees as much as possible.

When they rounded the corner of the building, the buggy stood empty beside the back door that led from the kitchens. The courtyard was only dimly lit be the barely risen moon, but Rhett could see that the buggy was empty. Quickly, they slipped into the barn, joining Wade A few seconds later, Jamie, whose job had been to follow Ashley, slipped into the darkened barn. "Was it him?" Rhett asked.

"Oh, yassuh, it wuz him, 'n' he tahked to ole Tim Johnson. He's a cooks helpuh heah, 'n' a mean 'un. The kine who'll do anythin fer money. Make me think he's got somethin' real bad in mind!"

"So let's watch him and see if we can figure it out," Rhett said. The four of them positioned themselves inside the darkened barn, watching for endless moments until the back door opened and Ashley and another man emerged. Between the two of them, they carried a heavy, rolled-up tarp, which they heaved into the back of the buggy. They stood beside the buggy for a moment, talking. Ashley seemed to be trying to persuade the other man to do something, and the other man kept shaking his head in refusal. After a few minutes, however, they seemed to come to an agreement, and both men went back inside.

Scarlett turned to Rhett; even as their eyes met, however, she could see that they were thinking the same thing. She had only a moment to savor the pleasure of working with someone whose mind functioned the same way hers did; then he gestured to Wade and they moved towards the back of the buggy. Jamie disappeared into the depths of the barn, returning after the briefest pause with a rolled-up tarp similar in size and color to the one Ashley had brought out of the hotel. They made the swap quickly and noiselessly, which was a good thing, for the men were barely back in hiding before Ashley once again emerged from the hotel. He glanced in the back of the buggy but everything must have looked fine to him, for he took up the reins, clucked to the horses, and was gone.

* * *

Once Wade and Jamie verified that Ashley had, indeed left the property, Scarlett stood watch at the barn doors while the others roughly unrolled the tarp. As they had expected, they found Rodney inside; from the strong smell of alcohol that emanated from him, he was quite intoxicated. No one in this group had any sympathy for him; he was certainly guilty of insulting Scarlett and assaulting Penny, even if nothing else. "See if you can wake him up," Rhett said, gesturing Wade to the water pump. Even a vigorous dousing in a horse trough and even more water dumped on his face failed to awaken Rodney, however.

After several minutes of applying cold water had yielded no results except for spluttering and incoherent mumbles, Wade said, "I wonder if he's been drugged? By something other than whiskey, I mean?"

"Where would Ashley have gotten any drugs?" Rhett asked.

"Tim Johnson could get 'em fer him," Jamie said. "He be a source fer one o' dem places dat don' care if de guls iz willin' or not. Dey uses drugs ta keep da guls quiet."

"Ah." Rhett looked disgusted. "Well, if that's the case, there probably isn't much we can do but wait for it to wear off. Wade, can you and Jamie get him into the hotel? Take him to my room," Rhett handed him the key. "It's number 215."

Wade nodded. "I don't foresee any problems there," he said quietly. "Are you going to take Mother back to Aunt Pittypat's?"

"Yes. Even in your company, it would cause too much gossip if she stayed the night in a hotel room."

"I think you're right about that," Wade said. "Hopefully, we'll get the evidence we need to be able to get rid of Ashley." Rhett noticed that Wade no longer said 'Uncle Ashley.' "Have you thought about what you'll do with him? Will he go to prison?"

"Does the thought worry you?"

"Not out of concern for him! But... there's Beau. He'll suffer the most, and that's not fair, when he didn't do anything wrong."

Rhett nodded. "Not only that, he saved my life last night,"Rhett said, stroking his mustache. "All right, when we have evidence against Ashley, we'll ask Beau what he wants us to do. Obviously, we can't allow Ashley to stay here, but maybe being exiled up north and forced to earn his own living would be enough of a punishment."

Wade nodded and smiled. "For Beau's sake, I'm glad," he said.

* * *

Scarlett agreed, when he told her as he was walking her home of the discussion he had just had with Wade. Her reluctance was almost palpable, but she nodded. "Beau is a good boy," she said, "and he's more important than Ashley, who won't have any power once we have evidence against him. He'll do anything not to have people know what he tried to do."

"I think you're right," he agreed as they climbed the porch steps. "Only a few more hours, and we'll be able to put this behind us, and concentrate on more important things." He flashed her a smile.

She nodded. "Yes. Like sleeping. And getting the girls from Tara. I miss them, and I'm sure they wondered why I didn't come get them today like I said I would."

"You did send a telegram to Will?"

"Yes. But I still won't be comfortable until I'm back with them," she admitted.

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "Tomorrow," he said, opening the door for her. "I'll take you myself, I promise."

The house was quiet as she went up the stairs to her room. She undressed quickly, grateful for the maid's costume designed to need no help to get in and out of. Then she sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, which was as long and lustrous as ever. She remembered how Rhett had enjoyed doing this, on their honeymoon in New Orléans so many years ago. She wondered if he would still think she looked pretty in her shimmy. Judging from his kisses the other night, she thought he probably would.

A breeze from the window blew across her shoulders, and she turned, frowning. She had closed the window when she came in, hadn't she?

A shadow detached itself from the curtains. "Hello, Scarlett," Ashley said.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is later than I thought it would be. I had more trouble deciding how to get from point A to point B than I thought I would, and then one thing after another came up to prevent me from actually getting it written. Hopefully the next chapter will go smoother, because I left Scarlett in a bit of trouble. Or, as I prefer to believe, Ashley is in trouble; he just doesn't know it yet.**

**Thank you for reading. I'd love reviews, if you feel inclined:).**


	22. Chapter 22

"This is a surprise, Ashley," Scarlett said coldly. "What are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?"

"I need to speak to you."

"In the middle of the night? With a pistol in your hand?"

"You need not pretend, Scarlett. I saw you earlier, wearing a maid's costume, walking back from the hotel with Rhett. The gun isn't for you, my dear, but to protect you from people like him, who will tell you lies and warp the truth. Rhett Butler has such a coarsening effect on your sweet and innocent nature. He's even convinced your son that he's a worthy person... but of course, once we're married, Wade will see how wrong he was to bring Rhett Butler back into your life."

"Married? But I don't want to marry you!"

You've never known what you wanted, Scarlett. That's why you've always been so easily led to do what _I_ wanted." He smiled at her, and a small shudder of revulsion escaped the tight control she held herself under. "Even back before the war. You fell in love with me so easily, just like I wanted you to."

"You planned it," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You planned all of it.

He smiled benignly at her. I'm glad you're beginning to see that," he said, looking at her approvingly. "You've always thought that Rhett Butler was so smart – blockade runner, soldier of fortune, able to make money from other people's misfortunes. What you didn't see, my dear, is that I'm smarter than he is. I get other people to do those kinds of things for me."

"Ah. How very enterprising of you," she replied.

"Indeed," he said; she was uncertain if the irony of her answer escaped him, or if he understood her sarcasm and chose to ignore it. "I was going to marry Melly, of course. She was a great lady, and we would have made a very elegant pair, if the war hadn't come. And I would have found you a husband nearby, so we could continue our relationship. I rather thought Stuart Tarleton, since I was the reason you enticed him to begin with."

"You were? How did you manage that? _Why_ did you manage that?"

"Stuart was going to propose to India. Soon, perhaps within days, and he had already told his brother that he wanted the shortest possible engagement. So they would have married in the late summer, leaving my father and I without a housekeeper until spring. That would have been terribly inconvenient. So I merely hinted to you that I didn't think you could get him, and you were delighted to prove me wrong. "

"You ruined your sister's life to avoid being inconvenienced?" Scarlett said, struggling with the urge to vomit. This – this was the man she had loved, silently and faithfully, for years and years? This monster?

Ashley shrugged. "In the long run, it made very little difference," he said blithely. "He died in the war, anyway. India should have been grateful to be the housekeeper at Twelve Oaks, since she really wasn't graceful or refined enough for it. Just see what she's dwindled into – a bitter, spiteful old maid."

"Just imagine," Scarlett said.

"Well, enough about old times." Ashley said. "Get dressed, Scarlett. The maid's costume you were wearing earlier will do. A bit – common – but under the circumstances, it's probably best to avoid being noticed."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Scarlett said.

"Of course you are." Ashley corrected, as if she were a five-year-old struggling with an unfamiliar lesson. "If you don't, I'll knock you out, tie and gag you, and go back to the hotel to ambush Rhett Butler and your son. You wouldn't want to see your son sacrificed on the altar of your wilfulness, would you, Scarlett?"

"No," Scarlett said. "I wouldn't want that."

Slowly, she began to dress. She felt his gaze upon her, knew that he enjoyed the sight of her barely clothed body, and was glad to feel only numbness. She was determined that he would not win, but so far she was unable to figure out what to do. It would be harder for him to keep her under control once they were outside, she thought. In the meantime, she would just go along, until she saw a chance to get away.

Once she finished fastening the dress, she stood docilely until Ashley gripped her arm. "Now, we are going to go out and get in the buggy," he told her in a low voice. "And just keep in mind that if you do anything – anything at all – to jeopardize my plans, you will pay. Or your son will."

Scarlett nodded. "I understand."

He gripped her arm, holding her tightly against his side. It was only a few feet to the top of the narrow staircase, and Scarlett gripped the polished wood banister, preparing to descend. Then came a sound, not loud but definitely present, and though Scarlett could not immediately identify it, she nevertheless knew she had heard it before. Long ago..her mind seemed to associate it with childhood, somehow. She could not make the connection, and she lost the train of thought as she heard a hard, meaty thud. Ashley first stiffened, then slumped forward. He was falling, and Scarlett immediately took advantage, shoving him as hard as she could. Unable to grasp the banister to halt his plunge, Ashley fell gracelessly and rolled over and over until he lay, crumpled and still, at the bottom of the stairs.

Scarlett moved after him, quickly, searching for the gun he had dropped as he fell. She found it on the fourth step from the bottom. _It's a mercy it didn't go off and wake everyone in the neighborhood,_she thought, picking it up and holding it in one hand while she went to check Ashley. She needn't have worried. Ashley's open eyes stared blindly upward; from the unnatural angle of his head, she knew that his neck was broken.

"He's dead," she said, turning to look at the top of the steps, at the person who had hit Ashley over the head with a cane and sent him plunging to his death. "His neck is broken."

* * *

Long after midnight, Rodney finally began to stir and mumble incoherently. Jamie looked up from where he slumped on the floor beside Wade. "He be wakin' up soon, Ah reckon," he said in his deep, slow voice. "What ya gonna do wif him, once he tells ya what ya wants to know?"

"I don't know," Wade said tiredly. "Prison would be too good for him, in my opinion, but he's one of Ella's in-laws, so I suppose the only person who would really be hurt is her. His family doesn't really care what happens to him, but they're just the type to try to use it against Ella, anyway."

"I'm really only interested in him for information that I can use against Ashley," Rhett spoke up from where he sat in the wing chair beside the bed. After that, he can go to hell, for all I care."

"Then I'll probably put him on a ship back to England," Wade said.

"To bad he can't be kidnapped, like dey say de Navy used to do," Jamie said idly. "Couple o' years o' hard work on board a ship'd do him good."

"Maybe we can," Wade said, enthusiastically. "Uncle Rhett? Do you know anyone from your blockading days who would oblige?"

"Maybe," Rhett said. "I agree that having him shanghaied would be good, even appropriate, but first we have to get information out of him. Once that's done, we can decide what punishment to hand out."

There was a quiet knock at the door. With a quick warning glance at the other two, Rhett went to the door and pulled it open a few inches. "Yes?" he said.

"I have a message for Mr Wade, from his mama," a young masculine voice said

"I'm here, Mose" Wade said, moving to stand where the young man could see him.

"Yo Mama sez ya can do what ya want 'bout this heah, but ya need ta come back ta Aunt Pitty's place soon. Ashley Wilkes done had a bad accident. He daid."

Before either of the men could recover their wits enough to question him, Mose was gone.

Wade looked at Rhett. "What do you suppose happened to him?"

Rhett ran distracted fingers through his hair. "I don't know, but I find the idea that he had some random accident, tonight of all nights, to be far too coincidental for my tastes."

"I agree. That leaves two possibilities. Either he committed suicide, or someone killed him."

"I don't think suicide is very likely," Rhett said thoughtfully. "He wasn't desperate enough yet. So that leaves killing, and I believe the person I need to talk to about that is Scarlett."

"Do you think she killed him?" Wade's voice was curious.

"Do you doubt that she could?" Rhett asked.

"Well, he was her friend her whole life. Mama is not overly sentimental, but she's very loyal to the people she cares about."

Rhett smiled wryly. "I have some experience with that, but let's just say, your mother had some reason to reassess her friendship with Mr Wilkes even before he attempted to kill me."

"So you think she did it?"

"I think I'm going to find out, if anyone is still up at Aunt Pittypat's." He glanced at Rodney, who was now clearly waking up. "Now that we don't need him to hold against Ashley, I don't much care what happens to him. We'll never be able to convict him of the hotel fire. My suggestion is to think of something to do to him that will leave him publicly humiliated, and leave it at that. Either way, try to have him out of my room in the next few hours? This is the second night that I've gotten no sleep, and I'd like to remedy that, if I get a chance."

* * *

It took him only a handful of minutes to walk the few blocks to Aunt Pitty's house. From half-a-block away, he could see that it was lit up, and even as he started up the front walk, he could see the door open and two servants carried out a blanket wrapped body on a makeshift stretcher. Rhett waited until they passed him by – he had no interest in the earthly remains of his long-time rival – and used the open door to enter the house. Finding the parlor with the ease of long practice, he entered the room, looking around for Scarlett.

She was leaning over, handing a cup of tea to India Wilkes; something about that scene struck him as a little odd, but when she straightened up and saw him, he dismissed it from his mind. She sped to him, saying his name, and he opened his arms to her, holding her tightly as she leaned against him for comfort. He wondered how many times during their marriage she would have come to him like this, if he hadn't been so careful to keep her from knowing that he cared. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"He fell down the stairs and broke his neck."

He stroked her hair and held her for long moments before she reluctantly lifted her head and moved away. "I need some fresh air," she said.

"Perhaps we could go outside and sit on the bench for a while," he said, smiling tenderly at her. Without so much as a backward glance, he led her out of the room, and onto the bench they had sat on only a couple of days before. It seemed like so much longer.

"What happened?" he asked, his arm around her while he waited for the answer.

"He saw you walking me home. He already knew about Rodney, and when he saw what I was wearing, he figured out the rest of it. He wasn't exactly stupid, Rhett; he was... cunning, I guess you'd say. He climbed in my window while I was getting undressed. He – he had a gun, and he wanted me to go with him. He said if I didn't, he would go kill you and Wade. So I got dressed, and Rhett, he was telling me the most awful things."

Rhett stroked her hair. "What kind of awful things.?"

"He told me that he intended to marry Melly, and have me as his mistress, after I married Stu. He thought it should be Stu, because Ashley deliberately baited me into making Stu like me -"

"Why would he do such a thing?"

"Because if Stu married India, Ashley and his father wouldn't have a housekeeper for a few months, until he married Melly. And that would be inconvenient. So he thought I should marry Stu, instead. Then I would be right there when he wanted me. Oh, Rhett, he was so awful! Listening to him, I felt so horrible that I ever thought I cared for him, when all the time he was just using people."

"He won't be missed," Rhett agreed. Then, quietly, "How did he come to fall down the stairs, Scarlett? Did you push him?"

"No. Not that I wouldn't have, but – no, there was this sound. I knew I recognized it but I couldn't remember where from. Later, I remembered. Ironically, it was from John Wilkes. When Ashley, Honey and I used to have tea at Twelve Oaks when we were all children, sometimes he would entertain us with stories of adventures and sword fights. He would slash his cane through the air, and it would make that sound – a thin, whistling sound. That's what it was, a cane. Then Ashley started to fall, and I pushed him, and he fell all the way down the stairs. I went down to the bottom, and his eyes – his eyes -" She gave a little shudder, and Rhett tightened his arm around her, bending to rub his face against her hair.

"Was it Beau, Scarlett? Who hit him with the cane?"

"Beau? Oh, no. Beau is still upstairs sleeping; the pain medicine Dr Meade gave him is very strong, and he didn't even wake up. He still doesn't even know his father is dead." Scarlett looked up at Rhett. "No, it wasn't Beau. It was India."

* * *

**So I want to know, honestly, did anyone see that coming? The reviews I got from the last chapter were more-or-less evenly divided between: Scarlett saved herself, Rhett saved her, and Beau woke up and saved her. I really did think of the last idea, but... he's a sweet boy, woozy from pain medicine, and overhears a conversation that confirms every bad suspicion he's ever had about his father. Is he going to be able to mount an effective defense? I decided it just wasn't plausible.  
**

**Review and let me know if you were surprised. And thank you for reading. You do realize this story is drawing to its conclusion, don't you? A few more chapters.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty - Three  
**

* * *

"India?" Rhett questioned, his fingers once again coming up to stroke his mustache. "I assume she overheard -"

Scarlett made an impatient movement with her hand. "I have absolutely no doubt that India was eavesdropping outside my room because she heard a man's voice in there and hoped to compromise me seriously enough that she could make sure no one in Atlanta ever received me again," she said, sweeping through the 'mealy-mouthed' euphemisms she so hated. "Instead, she heard Ashley telling me about how he got me to entice Stu away, and heard him casually dismiss her suffering as a result. Not only did he deliberately turn her into an unpaid housekeeper, he wasn't even grateful."

"And that's when she got the cane?"

Scarlet nodded. "I'm not certain if she intended to kill him or not. Certainly her blow was strong enough to knock him out, but she might not have realized how fatal a fall down that narrow, steep staircase would be."

"Or she might have," Rhett said. Scarlett shrugged.

"All I know is, this works out well for us. No need to find a way to blackmail him into leaving, no need to look over our shoulders for the next bad thing he tries to do – because I don't think he would have stopped, Rhett. Listening to him last night, looking at his face when he threatened you and Wade... I really believe that he was insane enough to believe that what he was doing was right. And now he's dead, and I can't be sorry, because it means we're safe."

Rhett's arm tightened around her for a moment, and he blessed his beautiful, hard-headed Scarlett for refusing to feel what society dictated she should. How much easier it was to deal with a calm, practical woman and not a nervous, timid lady.

"Where were they taking him?"

Scarlett gave him an inquiring look.

"Ashley. They were moving him as I came in; where were they going?"

"Oh, they were taking him to his house. After Dr Meade pronounced him dead, Aunt Pittypat swooned several times at the prospect of having a corpse in the house. So it was decided to take him to his house, where Mrs Meade and Mrs Merriweather would lay him out. They might have been a bit surprised that India didn't offer to go along, but not that much. After all, he was her closest relative, and it probably seems reasonable that she would be shaken up."

"How did you explain the accident?"  
"Oh, it was very simple. Ashley dropped by late to see Beau. India and I heard him and came into the hall just as he topped the stairs. He startled, overbalanced, fell backward down the stairs. And he was dead before I could get to him. An accident. No fault needs to be assigned to anyone, though naturally, India is devastated by her brother's death. Beau has not woke up, because the doctor gave him painkillers, and I, of course, am too hard-hearted to feel normal grief, even for an old friend like Ashley."

Her voice was light and calm, but Rhett could see the stress in her face, feel it in the tension of her slender body against his.

"And do you feel grief?" he asked.

"No," she said softly. "I'm only glad he's gone, for he would have been a source of great trouble to us as long as he lived. I regret that I wasted as much of my life as I did caring about him, but beyond that, I feel... nothing."

"I think that's about what you can expect," Rhett told her, stroking her hair.

"I want to go to Tara tomorrow," she said, after a long moment. "Probably not in the morning, but in the afternoon. Will you take me, Rhett?"

"Of course I will, Honey," he said. "We'll go and see the girls. You'll enjoy that."

"So will they," she said, laughing. "They adore me, you know!"

"Yes, I do know. You can see it in their faces when they talk about you, and when they see you. You've been a good mother to them."

"Shall you enjoy having children back in your life again?" she asked sleepily, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Very much," he said, and she felt a deep rumble of laughter vibrate through him. "I think it's time you got some sleep now, Scarlett. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, all right." She told herself that it was only sleepiness that was making her so abnormally submissive, but she knew that wasn't completely true. Some of it came from the relief of having a competent man to turn to. When Rhett was around, she didn't have to do everything herself.

He walked her to the door, and kissed her forehead gently. "Go to bed now," he told her, then headed back to the hotel to try to get some rest himself.

* * *

The next morning came all to early. Scarlett woke with the dappled light of early morning playing in leafy patterns on the wall above her bed. She stretched, yawning; it had been a long time since a morning had dawned that felt quite as promising as this. Yes, there was work to be done, but it was work that didn't involve any deep emotional overtones. She would spend the morning helping India plan Ashley's funeral; then this afternoon, she and Rhett would go to Tara and get the children. Spending time with Rhett would be fun; spending time with the girls, at Tara, would be... rejuvenating.

Scarlett threw back the sheets and rang for Pansy. If at all possible, she wanted to speak to India before the day started and things got busy.

India did not have the knack for carrying grief gracefully. Her eyes, a washed-out blue that looked all the more faded because of her pale lashes, were red and puffy, her cheeks were mottled, and her hair showed signs of neglect.

Staring at her over the kitchen table, Scarlett sighed. She had not expected, nor did she get, any sign of friendship. Nevertheless, the two women needed to talk, a fact which India accepted with as much forbearance as could be expected.

"We don't need to talk about what happened last night, unless you want to," Scarlett said.

India shook her head vigorously. "No. In fact, I've been dreading it," she said, a little shudder going through her.

"The only thing I want to say, is that I'm not sorry. I think under the circumstances, it's the best thing that could have happened, to avoid public disgrace."

India sipped her herbal tea. "I'm not sorry, either," she said, and suddenly those pale, faded eyes were again blazing with rage and pain. "In fact, I'm glad. He – he deserved to die."

Scarlett nodded. "I agree with you," she said gently. "However, I feel that it is incumbent upon me to point out that airing those views – to anyone but me – might have the most unpleasant sort of consequences for you."

India sighed, and her eyes dropped. "I suppose you're right."

"So you need to keep up the appearance of a grieving sister for a few more days. Once the funeral is over, you can go back to business as usual and everyone will simply gush about how strong and brave you're being. But for the next three days, it's vital for your future that you behave with quiet decorum. Can you do that?"

"I believe so," India said, lifting her chin as though Scarlett had challenged her.

"Good," Scarlett sipped her tea. "Are you going to stay here, living with Aunt Pitty?"

Her abrupt question seemed to startle India. "I don't know. I never really thought about it. It's what everyone thinks I should do."

"What do you want to do?"

"I – I haven't really thought about what I wanted in years," India said. I've just done what other people wanted me to do. First father, then Ashley -"

"Well, that doesn't seem to have made you very happy," Scarlett said. "Have you ever wanted to do anything just for yourself? Because it made you happy to do it?"

"Well, back before the war, father used to let me do some of the plantation work," India said hesitantly. "No, I don't mean the housework. I mean, deciding which crops to grow, and where, and how to rotate them for best productivity, things like that. If we still owned Twelve Oaks – which we don't, it got sold for taxes years ago – but if we did, that's what I'd like to be doing." She glanced at Scarlett, with the half-defiant air of someone who had just revealed a secret fantasy. "Why are you asking, anyway?"

"Because, India dear, you may not have noticed, but you happen to have done me a very big favor last night. Your brother was kidnapping me at the point of a gun, and you came and hit him over the head and stopped him -"

"I didn't do it for you -" The revulsion on India's face was so real that Scarlett had to smile. To her surprise, after a moment, India smiled back.

"But that doesn't change anything. I still owe you, and I try to always pay my debts. And in the case of your little dream of running Twelve Oaks, I'm the only person in the world who actually could help you make it come true."

"How could you do that?" India asked. She tried to sound scornful, but underneath, Scarlett could hear a faint – very faint – note of hope."

"Because I own Twelve Oaks. I bought it several years ago when it got sold at auction. I thought that it would make a good college graduation present for Beau, and it's not as if land were going to go bad if it just sat for a few more years. If there were someone – a family member, let's say – who wanted to run it in the meantime, in return for shares of the land itself, that would be even better. It would be hard work; whoever took it on would have to hire laborers, and give them orders, and behave like no proper lady would ever have behaved back before the war. That family member – if she were of the female persuasion – would have to live at Tara for a few months, while we got a house built, and living with Suellen would be no picnic."

"I always got along with Suellen better than I got along with you," India muttered. She was staring at Scarlett as if she had grown a second head.

Scarlett laughed. "India, you'd get along with the devil himself better than you've gotten along with me."

"I suppose that's true," India agreed. "But it's not as if you didn't deserve it!"

"No, you're probably right," Scarlett said. Rising to her feet, she carried her teacup over to the sink. "If you decide to do this at Twelve Oaks, you will certainly have to go against public opinion. The old cats have always liked you, India, but that's because you've lived your life their way. If you're going to change, you'll most certainly have to face a loss of approval."

"Are you saying it isn't worth it?"

"No. Just saying that nothing in life is free. Think about it for a few days. You can let me know after the funeral." She turned to the door. "And now I suppose it's time to go upstairs and tell Beau about his father."

* * *

**Well, who would have thought that India had ambitions of her own? Or that Scarlett, of all people, might be the one who could help her realize them?  
**

**Review and let me know if you like this different aspect of India. Do you think she should go out and run a plantation, or stay in Atlanta with Aunt Pitty?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty - Four**

* * *

Scarlett stared down at the casket, her lashes lowered over her expressive eyes, shielding them from view. She didn't want anyone to see the lack of any grief in her face, so hiding her eyes was for the best. Her left hand lay on Rhett's arm, but on her other side was Beau.

He looked weak and a bit ill, but then, it had been a rough couple of days for him. Waking up on the morning after his own accident to find out that his father had died in a freak accident had seemed to sap his strength; for the next two days, he was content to lie abed, letting India and the servants fuss over him. If it had been Wade, Scarlett would have been more worried, but Beau was introspective by nature; like his mother, he took a while to analyze situations, but once he did, he understood them thoroughly.

Scarlett felt a bit uneasy when she thought about what he might ask her, when he was finished absorbing the story that she and India had given him.

Today, he rose and dressed for the funeral, making only approving comments about the arrangements India had made. The ladies of the Old Guard had managed an impressive array of flowers, considering the way the heat had sapped everyone's garden, and Scarlett heard more than one hastily stifled sneeze during the long service as the cloying scent of the blossoms permeated the area.

The minister seemed to take forever with the service, but at last he fell silent. Traditionally, this was the time that long-winded speeches about the deceased would be made. Scarlett would find such speeches tedious even if she agreed with them, but in this case, she felt it was dangerous to have India hear an hour or more of Ashley's praises being sung. In the mood she was in, it might cause her to break.

Fortunately, Scarlett and Rhett had discussed this before the service, and had come up with a plan. She took a half step back, which pulled Beau a little off-balance, causing him to sway a little. Scarlett's arm tightened on his, and she said in a loud voice, "India, I do believe we should take Beau back to the house where he can rest. He looks very pale, and this heat can't be good for him."

Her eyes met India's, and Scarlett was dismayed to see how pale and drawn her face was. She looked close to collapse herself. "Yes," she agreed, in a high-pitched voice that sounded quite unlike herself. "I think we should."

Scarlett glanced quickly at Rhett, who moved to put himself between India and Beau so that he could offer support to whichever one needed it. Slowly, they moved through the crowd. "There will be a cold collation offered at the house," Scarlett said to them, in a carrying voice. Once they were at the house, India would have work to do, and Scarlett knew from long experience that nothing steadied trembling hands like a good dose of work.

* * *

"Mama, is it over?" Katie asked from the porch. Lanie was nowhere in sight, leaving Scarlett to wonder if cook had left the apple tarts out where small hands could get them. Rhett went inside with India to get Beau settled.

"Now the ladies and gentlemen will come here, to share food and drink in honor of the deceased," Scarlett told her younger daughter. "And where, may I ask, is your sister?"

"Um – I'm sure she'll be here soon," Katie said; her eyes dropped away from her mother's a sure sign she had something to hide.

"Oh? Would that be with or without the treats she filched from the kitchen?" Scarlett asked.

Katie looked crestfallen, and Lanie came around the corner of the house, holding two golden squares of pastry that oozed apple filling. "How do you always know, Mama?" Lanie asked.

Scarlett smiled. "'Cause this ain't the first time I've seen this dog and pony show," she said. Lanie looked confused, and she rephrased, "I've raised other children. Wade and Ella might have fooled me, but you two aren't going to get away with it!"

"How about Bonnie?" Katie asked curiously. "Would Bonnie have gotten away with it?"

"Bonnie got away with everything," Rhett answered from behind her, "but that was not good for her, and would be no better for you."

"Yes," Scarlett said, glancing around to where he lounged in the doorway; meeting his eyes, she smiled, and he smiled back. "Now, you two sit here on the porch swing and eat your apple tarts, but those are the only ones you are to have today, do you hear me?"

It seemed forever before the last guests left. Scarlett had Beau sit in the big wing-back chair in the living room, with his feet up on a hassock, hoping that those who had attended the funeral would be reminded of his infirmity and not stay, but it was fruitless. Every guest had to greet him, every guest had a story to tell, and none of the fools seemed to notice that Beau grew whiter and quieter with each minute that passed.

Scarlett was actually more worried about India, who was literally gritting her teeth with the desire to scream the truth about her brother. She and Scarlett both hovered over Beau, which helped keep India calm, and finally, when Scarlett could see that neither of them could take any more, she appealed to Dr Meade. The venerable medical practitioner, his professional pride appealed to, had the room cleared in a matter of minutes.

Scarlett took Beau upstairs and put him to bed, carefully changing his bandage and applying salve to the burn once he was comfortable. She gave him a dose of medicine, then paused before she left the room. "Beau?" she asked, to make sure he was awake.

"Yes, Aunt Scarlett?" he murmured sleepily.

"Wade and I will be going back to Tara with the girls tomorrow," she told him. "Would you like to go with us?"

"Oh, yes!" he said, with enthusiasm. He had always loved the country. "That is, if they'll let me." He sounded about ten when he said that, and very afraid that the adults wouldn't let him do anything fun.

"Don't you worry about that," she told him, as she turned toward the door. "I'll see to it."

* * *

She went downstairs, to find that all the guests were gone except for Rhett, who was sitting on the porch steps while India was on the swing. "Where's Aunt Pitty?" Scarlett asked, wanting to make sure the old lady was safely out of the way.

"She was worn out after the day's events. She went to bed," India said shortly. Scarlett thought about teasing her by reminding her that a lady would have said, "She retired for the evening," and never ever referred to a bed in front of a gentleman, but decided not to. India had been through a tough day.

"So, India, have you made up your mind if you want to manage Twelve Oaks for me?" Scarlett asked.

Rhett, who had heard nothing of this, sat up straight and stared at Scarlett. "Twelve Oaks?" he said. "Scarlett, you amaze me."

"Oh, you can be more amazed than that," Scarlett said cheerfully, seating herself on the steps beside him. "I own Twelve Oaks free and clear. I own two-thirds of Tara – I bought Sissy's share from the church a few years ago. And I control a third of Mimosa until the girls are twenty-one or marry. I'm probably the largest landowner in Clayton County, as things stand now."

"What do you have in mind to do with all that?" India asked, sounding honestly curious.

"Well, you know what I had in mind for Twelve Oaks," Scarlett said. "I bought it for Beau. The land won't go bad if it has to wait a few years. But if you want to start taking care of it now, so much the better. There will be less for Beau to do when he graduates."

"What exactly are you offering, Scarlett?" India said. "I mean, I don't have the money for basic equipment or seed, or anything. If you send me there without those things, I won't be able to accomplish much."

"Two plows," Scarlett said. "Four mules, a wagon, the materials to build a house and barn – Will can help you get it ordered from the local stores. Seed for the first year, half the second, after that you're on your own. Hand tools for your laborers, materials for fences, and -" Scarlett did some quick calculations in her mind "- a hundred-and-fifty dollars for provisions. Every penny of profit you earn is yours. At the end of five years, if you have enough to repay me what I've spent, plus half of the four hundred dollars I spent to buy it, then I'll deed half the land over to you. Beau will get the other half."

India stared at her. "That's... fair," she said, sounding surprised.

"Two conditions," Scarlett said. "First, you have to work with Will. He approves the plans for building – I'm not going to be available – and what he says, goes. I trust his good sense. Second, Alex Fontaine went to college to learn the best farming techniques. In spite of the fact that he was a dandy with more temper than was good for him, some of that learning seems to have stuck. All farm decisions have to be cleared through him before a plow gets put to the ground. Neither of those men have any reason to want to see you fail; in fact, seeing as how I have an interest in their lands, they have every reason to want you to succeed. Their help can mean the difference between success and failure. Use it."

India looked a little dazed. "Scarlett, I guess you do understand business" she said.

"You sound surprised," Scarlett said, smiling. "Did you think I spent hours at those sawmills and the store just to be doing it?"

It was obvious that India had thought something like that, but she had the grace to remain silent.

"When I first married Frank, those businesses were the way I made sure that Tara was safe, and my family had food and shelter," Scarlett said. "But I discovered that not only was I good at business, I enjoyed it. Now I can think of very few things that would make me give it up. Maybe it will be the same way for you."

"Maybe it will," India said. "Yes, Scarlett, I will go to Twelve Oaks."

"Good," Scarlett said. "We leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" India said. "But – what about Beau? Aunt Pitty?"

"Beau is coming with us," Scarlett said calmly, "I talked to him about it today; he's looking forward to it. Aunt Pitty is going to have Mrs Merriwether to stay, and they're both looking forward to that. Enough that they'll probably make it permanent, once they know you're not coming back."

Rhett, who had remained completely silent through all of this, rose to his feet. "And now that you've arranged everything to your satisfaction, Scarlett, come for a walk with me?"

"I would be delighted, sir," she responded. "Just let me fetch a parasol, and make sure Pansy is listening for the girls. When they wake up from their naps, they'll be in all kinds of mischief, else."

* * *

**So, India decided to go to Twelve Oaks and see if she could earn back the family plantation? Well, good for her; in those days, that took real gumption, as Scarlett would say. And speaking of Scarlett, who would ever have thought, back when we first saw her flirting sweetly with the Tarleton twins on the front porch of Tara, that she would one day be 'the largest landowner in Clayton County?'**

**Thanks for reading. If you have a comment, feel free to review; I love to hear from you!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

* * *

Scarlett twirled her parasol absently, walking beside Rhett through the late-afternoon sunshine. "It was nice of you to offer India a chance to earn her own stake in Twelve Oaks," he said, after a moment.

She smiled. "I am capable of being nice," she said dryly. "Upon occasion. And I believe in paying my debts – even if I don't much like the person I owe them to."

"So you don't think that you and Miss Wilkes will be becoming bosom friends anytime soon?" Rhett asked, watching her closely. He could see something bothering her, but he did not know what it was.

Scarlett laughed. "Hardly. But India living at Twelve Oaks takes away one of my options for carving out a place for me and the girls. I have no particular wish to live in England anymore; now that travel has become so fast – did you know it only takes about a week on one of the new ocean liners? - I will be able to visit Ella often, even if I live in this country. Plenty of time for me to be there for the babies."

"Shall you like being a grandmother, Scarlett?" he asked, smiling wickedly at her.

"Do you know, I rather think I will," she said, smiling back. "And this is not the first discussion we've had about my future grandchildren, do you remember? You once told me that I would have to wait to get approval from them -"

"And you've proved me wrong," he said quietly. "You've done an excellent job with Wade and Ella, Scarlett. I have to admit, I would not have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"But then, you never had much faith in me," she replied. "I think that realization, more than anything else, was what made me leave, and stay gone long enough to find another husband. The fact is, Rhett, that although you said you loved me, you almost never acted like it. During the whole time we were married, I can't remember a single time when we went as long as a week without a quarrel because you had deliberately said something vicious to me. Made fun of something I cared about. If it were only Ashley, I could understand, but it wasn't. You seemed to take great delight in mocking everything I loved."

Without even knowing they walked in that direction, they had arrived at the same park bench they had sat on twice before. Scarlett sat down, and looked expectantly up at Rhett as he seated himself beside her. Obviously, she awaited an explanation; he looked down into her face, forcing honesty upon himself. He had promised himself that their future, if they were to have one, would be based on the truth, and this is where that began.

"I was afraid," he said.

"Afraid?"

"Yes, afraid. I'd seen you with other men, your beaus at Twelve Oaks, both your husbands, all the other men you met who took one look into your green eyes and were willing to do anything for one of your smiles, and I was afraid of becoming just like them. A besotted boy, with his heart on his sleeve! No, thank you!"

"And so you acted in a way that kept me from knowing how very much I liked you," she said, softly. "I never even thought about the possibility of loving you, not once in all our marriage, because I disliked your behavior so much and so often."

"And because of Ashley." He could not hide the bitterness. "Always Ashley."

"There was Ashley," she said. "But more and more as time went on, he began to seem like a dream, something that had happened long ago. Even if he had been what I thought he was, I was already leaving him behind. But you gave me nothing to move forward to. Even aside from your flagrant infidelity, which was very badly done of you, by the way -"

He looked at her. "Until you kicked me out of our bed, I was never with anyone but you, once we married. And afterwards, I don't think you can blame me."

"But you were always at her house," Scarlett said. "We hadn't been back in Atlanta for a week before the old cats made sure I heard that you'd been seen at her place, drinking and gambling just as though you weren't married."

"And what did you say to that?" he asked.

"What could I say? I told them I guessed a man could have a drink and a game of cards if he felt like it, even if he was married. That you would go to her when I was at home if you wanted me proved to me that you were telling the truth when you said you didn't love me.."

"I'm sorry about that," he said quietly. "I should have known better. But drinking and gambling a little was all it was, then. If I had known it hurt you – that you even knew of it – I wouldn't have done it. "

To his surprise, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "We didn't do very well by each other during our marriage, did we?' she asked.

He squeezed back gently. "No, we didn't," he agreed.

"I suppose the real question is, can we do better in the future, or should we simply leave matters as they are? We _can_, you know, Rhett. I can go back to England, and raise the girls there; you can go to Charleston, or New Orléans, or wherever you spend your time nowadays. We'll hear about each other from time to time, through Wade and Ella, who will both want you in their life now that you've met again. You'll know how many grandchildren I end up having, and I'll hear if you ever decide to remarry... we both have enough money that we don't need each other in that sense. So if we decide to, we can go our separate ways with nothing more lost between us."

"Scarlett," he began, but she shook her head and placed her fingers over his lips.

"Shh," she whispered. "I've given some thought to the matter over the past few days, Rhett. I'll even be brave and be the first to admit that I'd like to try again. But I have conditions. Do you want to hear them?"

"Go ahead," he said. His heart had leapt crazily when she said she wanted him back, but this was the crux of the matter, he knew. If Scarlett was going to bring up issues that he could not accept, now would be the time.

"First comes the matter of children," she said, looking up at him. "I'm a little long in the tooth for continual child-bearing, but I am willing to try to give you one more child, if you want one, and if we can agree to try in the next year or so. After that, the offer's off the table, and I'll expect you to cooperate in matters of birth control – condoms, and sponges dipped in vinegar, and such."

"We can try for a child," he agreed. "And if one doesn't come soon, well, there are the two you already have. I imagine they will keep us busy."

"I imagine they will. I won't allow you to spoil them the way you did Bonnie, however." Her face was stern. "They're sweet, well-mannered little girls, and they're being raised to be polite and considerate. I'd expect you to uphold that."

He smiled. "Agreed."

"Now comes something you may not find as easy to grant," she said. "There's a bit of doggerel poetry I once heard that describes my opinion on the matter quite well, I think. It goes like this: _Here's to me, and here's to you, and here's to love and laughter. I'll be true as long as you, and not one minute after. _Are we clear on that issue?"

He stroked his mustache. "Perfectly."

"Good." She smiled at him. "Everything else is negotiable, I think. Where we live, what kind of life we have, all the rest. I suppose you may have some conditions of your own," she said. "We can discuss them when we're at Tara – you are coming back to Tara with me, aren't you?"

"When are you leaving? Tomorrow, did you say?"

"Yes, The sooner I get India busy, the better. I also need to have a business meeting with Alex and Will and try to get them – both of them – to accept some of the ideas I have for Mimosa and Tara." She sighed. "I imagine it will be like trying to herd cats. Neither of them takes very well to being told what to do, especially by a woman, and they don't much like each other, either."

"Then I will definitely go, if only to save you from being bored to death by stiff-necked men," he said gallantly.

"Oh, how sweet of you," she murmured, looking at him under her lashes.

He smiled. "I can be sweet," he said. "In fact, although the chocolates I ordered for you from England burned up in the hotel fire, I still have the other present I bought for you and never gave to you..."

"Oh, Rhett," she sat up straighter, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I do so love presents!"

"I remember," he said. "I could never tell if you liked Christmas or your birthday better." He slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew the slender box.

"Oh, my birthday, definitely," she answered, accepting the gaily wrapped parcel. "Then, all the presents are mine!"

He laughed, and watched indulgently as she tore away the shiny silver paper and thin green ribbons with which the packages had been decorated. She opened the jewelry case and gasped with pleasure. "Oh, aren't they adorable," she murmured, looking at the bracelet and matching earbobs.

"You'll have to manage the earbobs yourself, but give me your hand and I'll fasten the bracelet," he said. Scarlett extended her arm obediently, and he fastened the delicate chain around her wrist with a skill that made her suspect that he had not spent the years since she had last seen him entirely away from feminine company. "There, that looks entirely at home on your arm. Emeralds always suited you, Scarlett!"

"You know, Captain Butler, a lady is always warned that if she accepts presents of value from a gentleman, he will think that he can take liberties with her," she said, her eyes laughing.

"One can only hope," he agreed, moving closer. "And just so you'll know, I always did intend to take a kiss for the hat I brought you during the war. Right up to the time you made it clear that you expected me to. Talk about cutting off my nose to spite my face! You always had that effect on me Scarlett, making me do foolish things that I didn't intend..."

"And now?" she asked, tilting her head back to watch him with interested eyes as he moved closer. She made no effort to resist, however, so he pressed his advantage, bending to kiss the red lips that had enticed him since that day at Twelve Oaks, so long ago.

She twined her arms around his neck, and kissed him back, with far more passion than she had ever showed during their marriage. In those days, she had accepted but never truly responded to his kisses and caresses, and he had allowed that because of his fear that if he tried to rouse her to passion, he would discover that there was none, not for him. Looking back, he was startled and dismayed to realize just how deeply their marriage had been poisoned by his fears. He had blamed Scarlett, but it was not all her fault, was it? He had never been honest; what made him think he could get what he wanted, when he held so much back?

"And now I love you," he said, when their kiss ended. "And if you wish me to jump through hoops to prove it, I shall do so, asking only that you make allowances for my rheumatism. It makes my back hurt of a night."

She smiled, and raised a hand to touch his cheek. "Perhaps I will rub your back with scented oils and herbal medicines, to make it feel better," she whispered. "But it shouldn't hurt much; I find I've mostly lost my taste for making people do jumps..."

"What a relief," he said, only half-joking. Scarlett could be so casually cruel.

"And besides, how could I? When I love you, too?"

"Do you?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "I didn't really hope that you would, not so soon. I thought I would have to woo you, perhaps for months."

She sighed. "I think I've always loved you," she said quietly. "It was only dormant, sleeping under everything else that goes on in my life. If I had never met you again, it would probably never have awakened, but when I saw you again, at Tara, it was just there, as if it had never been gone. Was it the same for you?"

"Not quite," he said, drinking in the sight of her, looking at him with love in her eyes. Finally! After how many years? "I realized that I still loved you about the time that I realized that you had gone away to where I could not find you," he said. "It took a long time – years, even – for me to understand that it wasn't a game, or a ploy to get me to come after you; you had really gone, and never intended to see me again. I was so hurt – that's why I wrote you that horrible letter. And when I got your reply, that perfectly worded, entirely proper little note that could have been written to a stranger, I was crushed. '_I believe I shall not trouble you further,' _indeed! I stayed drunk for a month, and afterwards, nothing was the same."

She touched his hair, smoothing it back from his face. "Let's not do that to each other anymore, hmm?"

"No," he agreed, tightening his arms around her. "This time, we'll do better. I'll be more honest, you'll be kinder, and we'll both love each other..."And he kissed her again, his embrace filled with the passion and joy they had never managed to find together before.

* * *

**So, what do you think? Scarlett and Rhett are back together again, and although a few more details remain to be worked out, it's only a few. One more chapter, 'sniff, sniff,' and then it's over!  
**

**Review, please, and let me know what you think. While only a few things remain to be settled, they are _interesting_ things, like: where are they going to get married? and when? What will the twins think? Where will they live, afterward? And Rhett has a really big present for Scarlett, one I think she'll adore!  
**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

* * *

** Scarlett **leaned against the porch railing, staring out over the broad acres of Tara. Rhett was right about the land, of course. She didn't like to admit it, but it was divided into small family farms now, not big plantations, and there were many, many fields that she remembered being planted with cotton that now boasted only weeds and scrub pine. Given another ten years, the land would be gone back to forest, and Scarlett was determined not to let that happen. Not if it were in her power to prevent it.

She wasn't sure that it was. For all she had boasted to Rhett that she was the largest landowner in Clayton County, it wasn't really true. Two of her properties were shared with others, men, who thought they knew at least as much and probably more than she did, and didn't hesitate to say so. She could control Tara, but she knew that if she tried to do it against Will, he would take Suellen and her children and leave Tara forever. That would be a great loss, not only because he was married to her sister and she had grown fond of him, but a loss for Tara. Where could she possibly get another overseer for Tara that would do as well by the land? Another overseer who would love it, as she and Will did?

"Now, I think this must be a first," a teasing voice said from beside her. "Scarlett O'Hara too lost in thought to notice the approach of a beau."

"I think that would have to be 'former beau,' Alex," she said, a smile curving her lips as she turned to look at him. "Sally would certainly have something to say about you hanging around me the way you used to, before the war."

"'Before the war.' Now, there's a phrase that divides my life into two halves, one that held beauty and gentleness and grace, and the other, hardship and hunger and work..." He came and sat on the porch steps beside her, and if one ignored his frayed collar and the neat patches on his britches, he looked almost like the Alex of her youth, with his ironic smile and quick temper.

"Now you sound like Ashley," she commented wryly.

Alex winced, throwing up his hands in mock pain. "Oh, not that! The horror!" After a moment's pause, he said, "You know, Tony never liked him very well. And I always accepted that, 'cause Tony knew people as well as any man I've ever met. But if he was wrong, if Ashley really was worthy, then you have my condolences on his death, Scarlett. I know you were friends for a long time."

Scarlett hesitated, then said flatly, "Condolences should go to Beau. After all, he's the one who lost his father."

"Ah." Alex nodded, as if what she had said was a good deal more complicated than correcting him on a minor point of etiquette. "I'll do that while I'm here, then. Are he and Will inside?"

"Yes, along with India and Rhett and the girls. I came out here to get a breath of fresh air – not that there's a breeze stirring."

"And what deep thoughts were occupying your mind while you were searching for the elusive breeze?" he asked lightly.

"I was thinking about farming," she said frankly. He roared with laughter, completely amused, but she had no idea what was so funny. She always hated that.

"Oh, Scarlett," he said at last, wiping his eyes. "I have to tell you, you are the most refreshingly practical woman I know."

"And what's wrong with that, I'd like to know?" she asked, not sure if she should be insulted or not.

"Absolutely nothing," he said. "So... what particular aspect of farming were you thinking about?"

"When we were on our way here, Rhett commented about how it's all small farms now, not plantations," she said. "And he has the irritating habit of being right, most of the time. Even the places that are doing well, like Mimosa, and Tara, aren't a tenth of what they once were. And some of the others are... when I was here for the wedding, I went for a ride down by the river, where Pine Bloom used to be. You remember how lovely it always was, Alex, with the tall oak trees lining the road to the house, that lovely house by the river, with the huge porches... and now, the porches are sagging, and the road's overgrown, and in another ten years, you won't be able to tell there ever were any fields. It will all be gone back to forest."

"Yes," he agreed. "But Scarlett, while I am sentimentalist enough to agree with you that it's a shame, I'm not genius enough to see a solution. I have all I can do to take care of my place, and even there, I've had to sacrifice beauty for utility in a lot of places. You of all people should understand that."

"I do," she assured him. "I understand that there's nothing you wouldn't give up, to make sure the ones you love have food and clothing, Alex. How do you think I wound up married to Frank? Do you think that was a love match?"

He smiled, the cocky, arrogant smirk that she remembered from before the war. "No. There are some fairy tales I've been gullible enough to swallow, but the idea that you cared tuppence for ole Frank was never one of them. I knew about the extra taxes they levied on Tara, so I assume that Frank had enough money to pay for them. I'm not sure whether I felt sorrier for him, or you. Either way you look at it, it wasn't exactly a match made in heaven." He hesitated, then said quietly, "I always hoped that you did better with Tony."

She looked up at him quickly. "Oh, much better," she assured him, with a smile. "Tony was everything that Frank wasn't – handsome, and brave and quick-witted. That's what I liked best about him, you know, the fact that he could out-think me sometimes. I didn't always have to wait for him to catch up, or explain things in words of one syllable, only to have him ask me what people would think, like Frank did. Who cares what people think, when the choice is to go against the rules or have your folks go hungry? Tony understood that."

"I imagine he did," Alex said, looking down at her lively, expressive face, and feeling suddenly glad that the woman he had at home was of a calmer nature, even if she was plainer of face. With a girl like Sally, a man knew where he was. Being married to Scarlett would be like hitching your wagon to a hurricane. You'd go far, and in a mighty big hurry, but only the luckiest would arrive safely.

"You said you wanted to talk to me and Will together," he said, changing the subject as he stood up and dusted off his hat. "Shall we go in and do that?"

* * *

They sat around the dining room table. The days when there had been an 'office,' where Ellen tended to the business of the estate were long gone. Sue used that room as a playroom for the children now, since it was convenient to the kitchen where she spent so much of her time.

"Beau, are you feeling up to this?" Scarlett asked him, her voice gentle. He looked so much like his mother, and she found that she had become adept at ignoring the ways that he also looked like his father.

"I'm fine, Aunt Scarlett," he said, fingering the bandage on the side of his face. Dr Meade had given him strict instructions to keep it covered for another week, lest infection set in.

"All right. What I want to talk about is goals we have in common for our land, and some things I hope will make it easier for us to meet them."

"Before we start, may I ask why Beau and India are here? They don't own any land here," Alex said bluntly.

"They're going to own Twelve Oaks. I bought it, when it came up for sale just after Melly died. My thought then was to give it back to Beau as a graduation present when he finishes college. India has -" she glanced at the thin spinster, a slight smile curving her lips, "- expressed an interest in having some of the land, however, so I've agreed to stake her to supplies and let her farm for five years. If she can make a go of it after five years, half the land will be hers."

Alex looked surprised; the enmity between the two women was well-known. Will nodded thoughtfully. "It c'n be done," he said in his calm, thoughtful way. "It's no cinch, 'cause lots c'n go wrong, but with a bit o' luck, I reckon you'd make out all right."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I'd like you and Alex to keep a strong eye on how things are going," Scarlett said. She was aware of Rhett watching silently in the background, and she wondered if he had ever been around when she did business before. Odd, that in all the years they were married, she could never remember him taking any interest at all in her work.

"India has some experience with farming," Scarlett said. "Most of that, however, was helping her father to run the plantation. She'll need a large amount of guidance to get started in a scaled down way. Will, I'd like you to oversee the building and the supplies for that. She'll need a house and a barn. Alex, I'd like you to oversee buying seed, hiring workers, and the planting. It's too late for planting, now, although if the weather holds and you hurry, you might be able to get a hay barn built and some hay put away for winter. That's one thing you wouldn't have to spend money on"

"Would it be better to wait until spring to buy the mules?" India asked. "Since all they'd be doing in the winter is eating, and taking up room in the barn we don't have yet."

"You c'n try to get the barn built 'fore the weather turns wet," Will said. "House, too; once harvest is over, there should be plenty of good workers. Having both of them done by spring would give you 'n edge, 'n' you'll probably need it. My 'dvice would be to buy 't least one team o' mules now; stable 'em at Tara till you get your buildings up."

India nodded. "I suppose that makes sense," she said calmly.

"We'll worry about seed when we've had a look at the land," Alex said, making his contribution. "And Sally and Suellen can probably be more help to you than I can as far as hiring a cook and a maid. For outside help, 'I'll want to ask around, see who's available, and reliable."

India nodded. "I won't be needing house help until – well, until we get the house built, as obvious as that sounds." She smiled self-consciously. "But the outside help can start as soon as the harvest is over, when hopefully we'll be able to start on the house and barn."

"All right. That takes care of the first thing I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "The details of what you intend to do at Twelve Oaks can wait a bit. What I want to talk to you about is Watt Myers."

Alex rolled his eyes, and even Will muttered something under his breath.

"I see that there's no need to explain what I'm talking about to you," Scarlett said to them.

"No, Scarlett, I know exactly what you're talking about. The man is a menace. Not only does he cheat us, but to our face, he talks as though he's doing us a favor, and then he laughs about it behind our backs."

"So the obvious solution is to stop doing business with him," Scarlett said quietly. "Because I agree that he's cheating you. I got the price on fifty pounds of cotton seed while I was in Atlanta, and compared it to what he sold it to you for, and he's getting more than two-hundred percent mark-up. That's outrageous."

"Scarlett, I agree with you completely. But what can we do? Will and I aren't running Mimosa and Tara back before the war, when we had money to burn and bought freight-cars full of seed every year. We're shirt-tail farmers who buy five thousand pounds of cotton seed a year, less than that of corn and rice. None of the big warehouses in Atlanta will ship such small amounts direct to the farmer – it isn't cost-efficient to them. So we're caught, left to buy our seed from a man who cheats us."

"Not," Scarlett said deliberately, "if we band together."

"What do you mean, band together?" Will asked.

"I mean we should join together, go to the wholesalers in Atlanta and buy the least amounts of seed he'll sell us. I know it's more seed than we need for a year, probably more than we need for two years, even adding Twelve Oaks in, but if we can buy enough seed to keep from having to do business with Myers for a couple of years, we can drive him out of business, or at least force him to treat us fairly."

Alex shook his head. "It won't work, Scarlett. To keep seed for that long, you've got to have good warehousing. Someplace dry, with a concrete floor that's in good shape so the damp can't get in. Over the past few years, I've probably been in every building on Tara that's big enough, and none of them are in anything like the shape they'd have to be in for this. Will, can you think of anything?"

Silently, Will shook his head.

"And that's not even to mention the varmints you'd have. You'd end up providing a meal for the rats and mice and coons – and for the foxes and snakes that would come after the other critters. And after all that, you'd have seed that was ruined by the damp. It can't be done, Scarlett. Don't you think we've thought of all the alternatives? We wouldn't put up with being cheated if we could think of any other way."

"May I ask a question?"

Rhett's voice was unexpected; Scarlett had almost forgotten that he was in the room.

Alex hesitated for just a moment. "Go ahead. Maybe you've thought of something we've overlooked."

"No, I actually think you've covered everything. I just want to make sure I understand – the main objection to Scarlett's plan is that the seed would have to sit for months or years? If there was a way it could be used in a single year, the idea of banding together to buy the seed is sound?"

"Well, yes, but the point is, we _can't_ use that much seed," Alex said slowly, as if talking to a child. "We just don't have that much land in cultivation."

"Maybe this will help, then."

From the inside pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a thin leather document wallet, and tossed it on the table. After a moment, Alex picked it up as gingerly as if he expected it to explode in his hands and looked at the papers inside. His eyes widened, and he rifled through them quickly.

"What is it?" Scarlett asked curiously. India and Will looked interested, and even Wade and Beau watched Alex.

He looked up at Scarlett and grinned. "Land deeds," he said. "Scarlett, I'm afraid you'll have to give up your claim to be the biggest land owner in Clayton County."

"What?" Scarlett took the case from him and looked through the land deeds. Rhett had bought up every piece of land that had come up for sale in the county for the last eight years. He owned Pine Bloom, which used to belong to the Calvert's, the old Macintosh place, half of the McRae plantation, even the swampy forty acres that had once been the Slattery's farmstead.

She looked up at Rhett, bewildered. "But I don't understand," she said. "Why would you go to the trouble of buying all this? As far as I know, you never even came to Tara until last week. Why would you want all this land here?"

"Oh, I don't," he said calmly. "I bought it for you, because I thought you might like to live here, someday. If you hadn't already agreed to marry me again, some people might say I was trying to bribe you."

Scarlett saw Wade and Beau trying to hide smiles; Alex and Will looked a little embarrassed, and India merely tightened her lips in disgust. But she wouldn't let them stop her from giving as natural a reaction as she could.

Looking at Rhett, she smiled. "Why Rhett Butler! You're just as much of a varmint as ever!"

* * *

**Well, this is the end. When I post this chapter, I will change the status to complete. However, there are a few events that occur after this that I would like to write about, so I have decided to do a series of short chapters, each a complete story, dealing with moments when Wade rejoined the lives of his mother and sisters. Some possible occasions: Scarlett's wedding, the birth of any future children for her and Rhett, and perhaps the birth and/or christening of Ella's first child. These would be posted together under the title 'Moments with Wade,' which would make it easier to follow and get updates about. The first of these will be posted at the same time as this chapter, and deals with the twins reaction to the news that their mother is getting married again. Comments and suggestions are welcome as always. **

**I also would love to get reviews dealing with this story as a whole. Let me know what you thought of the way it did or did not work, so I can do better next time. I appreciate every reader, and I read every review!**


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